The Ice Within
by Fantabulous Fantabulism
Summary: This is the story of Thomas, son of King Henrik and Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Born with his mother's wintry elemental magic, the Crown Prince must face the uncertainty such dangerous power always brings. But, when an old enemy seeks to end the royal bloodline for good, what will become of the son of the Snow Queen?
1. The Dead of Night

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's and plots._**

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_This is the story of a boy named Thomas of Arendelle, son of King Henrik and Queen Elsa. In time, Prince Thomas will face love and sorrow, defeat and triumph. In time, this boy will become a man both feared and revered, loved and hated. In time. But as with all good stories, this one begins in the beginning…_

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**Chapter 1: The Dead of Night**

All was quiet in the Kingdom of Arendelle. The streets were empty, the people all in their dwellings, the shops and stores closed for the night. Excepting a few pubs and hotels that still hummed with activity, the town resided in the deep silence of slumber.

But on this particular night the calm was broken. For all through the vast corridors of the castle of Arendelle echoed a woman's shrill, laboured cries. The Queen was giving birth. In the royal bedchamber, Queen Elsa of Arendelle writhed in the throes of labour, the entire bed frame beneath her trembling from her exertion. At her side kneeled her husband, King Henrik, and at the foot of the bed stooped the midwife.

_Nothing is ever easy with Elsa_, thought the King, with no small degree of fondness. From the beginning of their courtship, the Queen had always been a hard nut to crack. Indeed, it had taken a full three months even for formalities to be dropped between the two, and a full three _years_ before Elsa had conceided to marriage…

Henrik was snapped from his reverie by yet another blood-curdling scream from his wife. Gripping Elsa's hand in his own, he whispered words of comfort to the Queen as she endured contraction after contraction. The bedpost over which Elsa's other hand was fiercely clenched crackled and groaned as tendrils of frost etched patterns onto the wood. The King mentally praised his wife for her astonishing control even in such a situation. A full-blown blizzard would have been expected given the Queen's condition, but Elsa had managed to keep her powers in check throughout the ordeal.

Thinking back, Henrik had never feared Elsa's abilities. Where others saw a frigid darkness, he had seen strength and power; where others saw a wicked sorceress, he had seen an artist with unparalleled beauty and love. While people were wary of the Snow Queen, Elsa's powers had only added to Henrik's infatuation. Her platinum-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and cool alabaster skin had captivated the former prince the instant he laid eyes on her. In time, their relationship had blossomed into a glorious romance.

Thus reminiscing his courtship of the Queen, King Henrik stood vigil at the bedside as Elsa laboured on through the night.

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The crack of dawn was heralded by the faint cries of a newborn child. After wrapping the baby in a blanket, the midwife handed the precious bundle to the triumphant royals.

"It's a boy, Majesties."

Elsa took the child into her arms, smiling down upon her son.

"I did it." Elsa's voice shook with fatigue.

"I never had a doubt in my mind," stated Henrik.

A pause. A sigh.

"I never thought this moment would come." At this, Elsa's voice trembled with more than just tiredness. "I'd resigned myself to a life of solitude as a child, and yet… Here I am, a mother. If only my parents could see me now…"

"You don't give yourself enough credit," whispered the King. "As long as I live, you will never be alone."

Another pause. "What shall we name him?"

Henrik mused over the question, fingers stroking his short beard.

"Thomas, after my late grandfather. A strong, proud man, he was."

"Thomas." The Queen smiled.

"Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle."

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_**Reviews please! Comments, criticism, even flames are welcomed :3**_


	2. The Great Reveal

_**Disclaimer: Frozen and its characters are property of Disney.**_

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**Chapter 2: The Great Reveal**

Not two seconds after the statement had left her lips, Elsa heard an all too familiar squeal from behind the doors of the bedchamber. Henrik and the midwife also turned towards the doors, knowing all too well the source of the noise. Within a heartbeat, in burst Princess Anna, her husband Kristoff in tow.

"Congratulations Elsa! You're a mother!" exclaimed Anna, beaming as she practically flew towards her older sister. "Ha! I told you it was going to be a boy!"

The royal couple smiled at the energetic woman.

"Presenting his Royal Highness, Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle!" proclaimed Henrik in a pompous official voice, gesturing grandly at the baby nestled in the crook of Elsa's arm.

As if noticing him for the first time, Anna stared at her nephew in awe. "Wow, is this the baby prince? He's so precious!"

Clapping her hands with barely controlled glee, the bouncing younger sister held her arms out towards the Queen. "Lemme hold him!"

Elsa turned her body away from Anna, protectively shielding her child with an arm. "Promise you won't drop him?" she asked icily.

Anna gasped, placing a hand over her heart for dramatic effect. "_Elsa_! I'm hurt! I have two children of my own you know! I should know how to hold a baby!"

"Actually, I should have you know that I held the children for the most part," muttered Kristoff from the other side of the bed.

"You're not helping!" exclaimed Anna, shooting a pointed glare at her husband.

"Alright, alright, I'll have to let you hold him eventually anyway," Elsa relented, a hint of humor in her voice. She gingerly handed the baby to her sister.

"Ooh, look at you!" Anna cooed, tickling the baby's stomach. At that, the child opened its eyes and fixed Anna with a surprisingly piercing, slate-gray stare. "Hi little guy! I'm your aunt Anna! We're gonna have lots of fun together, you and I!"

Elsa snorted. "What, are your two children not enough?"

Anna stuck her tongue at her sister. "I'll have you know that it's not queenly to snort."

Walking over to Henrik, she held up the child for him to see. "Look! He has your eyes!"

"Indeed, it seems he does!" smiled the King, taking his son into his arms.

"Hmm… I wonder what colour _hair_ he'll have," Anna mused.

At that moment, the door handle turned again to reveal two young children and a familiar snowman.

"Annabeth, Christopher! I told you to wait outside!"

The midwife, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, finally spoke up.

"Highnesses, I think it would be best for you to continue this another time. The Queen is, after all, very tired from her ordeal."

"Truly," said Elsa, as she adjusted herself into a position better suited for sleeping.

Kristoff scooped up both his children, one in each arm. "Alright, Aunt Elsa needs her rest."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for keeping you up!" Anna apologized, as she began to follow her husband out the door.

"Ah, it's quite alright. Although, how you endured this _twice_ is beyond me…" And with that, the Queen closed her eyes.

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Elsa awoke to darkness. Looking about the bedchamber, she found it empty and silent. It was then that the reality hit her anew. She was a mother. The Queen closed her eyes again, savouring the feeling. Ever since that fateful night on their honeymoon, she had known this day would come, but now it was so much more genuine. She was a mother.

The sound of the door handle brought Elsa back to earth.

"Is she awake?" Henrik's voice. Elsa raised her head above the cushions.

"It would appear so," said another familiar voice, and in walked the King and the royal family's most trusted servant, Kai.

"How are you feeling?" asked Henrik.

"Tired, but well-rested," Elsa smiled back.

"Your Majesty, pardon the interruption, but the our physician insisted on performing a physical examination to ensure your wellness," explained Kai, as he stepped aside to reveal an older man at the door.

"Your Majesty, Physician Simone Wellingdon at your service." He bowed low. "Your health is of the utmost importance."

The Queen focussed her eyes upon the petite man. "Never mind me, what of my son? Is he well?"

"Ah, yes, I'd examined him yesterday. A beacon of good health, I assure you." The physician began polishing his spectacles.

"Wait, yesterday?" Elsa considered the man's words. "Henrik, how long was I asleep for?"

"It is now midnight of the next day, love," said the King, gesturing to the small grandfather clock on the wall. As if the accentuate the fact, the faraway Church bells tolled twelve times.

At this, Elsa was no longer so calm. "I've been asleep for the whole _day_?!" Her hands flew to her hair. "Oh, I'm so behind! I've missed my meeting with the Duchess of Witherton, and there's still the matter of those trade documents for Corona that need done!..." This was accompanied by a noticeable drop in temperature, and frost began to creep up the walls.

Suddenly, a hand had taken the Queen's. "Elsa, calm. Everything has been taken care of. I'm more than capable of running the Kingdom for a day you know," The King soothed his wife. "You work yourself far too hard as it is, and you've the most legitimate reason any woman could possibly have for taking some time off."

"Ahem, speaking of which..." All heads turned to the physician. "I should probably get Her Majesty's examination underway." The man donned his spectacles. Pulling the covers off Elsa's legs, he turned to the servant and the King. "You gentlemen may wish to avert your eyes."

A short ten minutes later, the Queen was dressed in a clean silken nightgown and was situated back in the bed. The physician handed Elsa's old clothes in a bundle to Kai. "Take these clothes to be laundered." The aged servant raised a brow at the order, but at a nod from the King, he bowed and left the bedchamber.

"So, doctor, what is the verdict?" asked Henrik, concern showing on his face.

"Her Majesty is making a quick recovery from her recent birth." The physician folded his spectacles and placed them in his breast pocket. "All seems to be in good order… well, excepting the, ah, usual anomalies."

"Excuse me?" Elsa narrowed her eyes.

The older man cleared his throat. "Ah, body temperature, Majesty?" It was more of a question than a statement.

Elsa frowned, remembering times in a darker past when physicians such as Simone had scrutinized her for her abnormalities. The Snow Queen exhaled. "Very well, you are dismissed."

The physician bowed respectfully and took his leave.

The King turned to his beloved, easing himself onto the bed beside her. "Your cold never bothered _me_, my love."

Elsa smiled. How long had she wished for this? For acceptance, for love? And here he was, all her dreams come to life in one man. The Queen wrapped her arms around her husband, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Good night."

"Good night, love."

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Alas, there was to be little family time to be had the next day. As per tradition for a royal birth, an official proclamation was scheduled, a chance for the people of Arendelle to catch a glimpse of the heir to the crown and throne.

Indeed, that day was truly a busy one. Invitations were sent to all four corners of the Kingdom of Arendelle, and the courtyard was readied for the arrival of the people. The Queen, with no small measure of guilt, left her son in the care of the maids and her sister for most of the day ("Aren't we lucky to still have a few nursemaids around?" A sigh. "Anna, I'd hired a new group a month ago! Did you seriously think I was unprepared?") Due to the Open Gates policy, the courtyard was packed hours before the great reveal. The citizens were all very excited, gossiping about the new addition to the royal family, and the possibilities he provided for the future of the Kingdom.

Now, minutes from the proclamation, the royal family stood ready behind the closed doors of the balcony. Henrik cradled the little prince in his arms, Elsa standing at his side, her back ramrod straight. Anna and Kristoff stood behind them, their two children running gleefully about the room, chasing the snowflakes falling from a cloud above a certain snowman's head. Kai was also present, ready to announce the royals as they stepped out onto the balcony. Outside, two royal trumpets flanked the closed doors.

Even after seven years of the people's acceptance, the Queen still was not at ease about public events. It was at moments such as these that the scared little girl threatened to resurface; the part of Elsa that wanted to run back to her room, lock the door, and shut out the world. "Conceal, don't feel," she muttered under her breath.

A hand came to rest upon her shoulder. "No, Elsa," Anna's clear blue eyes locked with her sister's. She slid her hand down Elsa's arm, finally grabbing hold of the Queen's hand with her own. "Never again."

Elsa gave her sister a grateful smile. No matter what happened, Anna would always be there. The Snow Queen would never be alone. Never again.

The Church bells tolled. Everyone snapped to attention, taking their positions as the trumpets blew a grand fanfare. Kai opened the doors. Walking out onto the balcony, the servant began announcing the royal family in its entirety.

"Presenting, Her Majesty the Queen, Elsa of Arendelle!" Elsa took a deep breath and walked forward, clasping her hands in front of her and looking every inch the Queen she was.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Anna of Arendelle!" Anna bounced forward with much less restraint, a wide grin evident on her features.

"The Royal Ice Master and Deliverer, Kristoff Bjorgman!" With a bit of a sheepish smile on his face, Kristoff stepped up to join his wife.

"Prince Christopher Bjorgman and Princess Annabeth Bjorgman!" The children bounced onto the balcony, Olaf in tow.

"His Majesty the King, Henrik of Arendelle! And last, but certainly not least, Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle!" The King stepped onto the balcony, cradling the newborn heir. This time, the trumpets were accompanied by the cheers and applause of the audience.

When the crowd had settled down, the King stepped forward and began his speech. "People of Arendelle! We are gathered here today for a truly momentous occasion! The Queen has born a child, the healthy boy you see before you! My loyal subjects, behold the heir to the throne, Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle!" At that, Henrik held his son up high above his head, for all to see. The little prince simply looked mutely upon the cheering crowd, as if dumbfounded by the noise of it all. Beside him, Elsa threw her hands up towards the afternoon sky, and celebratory flurries of snow fell upon the courtyard. Annabeth and Christopher jumped about, giggling as they caught snowflakes in their hands. Anna and Kristoff smiled upon their children.

And unbeknownst to all, a single snowflake fluttered from Thomas' open palm.

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_**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2! Reviews please! Last I checked, I have a good stock of fire extinguishers, so BRING THE FLAMES :3**_


	3. Fractals in Time

_**Disclaimer: My characters are mine, my plot is mine. Disney takes the rest.**_

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**Chapter 3: Fractals in Time**

As little Tom grew, so did his presence in Arendelle Castle. From week one, the boy proved himself to be a quiet baby, hardly ever crying unless to notify his caretakers of his hunger (or that he had soiled himself). Anna and Kristoff's children quickly formed a bond with the little prince, and one would often times find the two by the crib, talking animately to the ever silent baby. Olaf would accompany the trio most of the time, talking with them, playing with them, and just being a jolly little snowman in general.

At week four, Thomas began to grow more restless, tossing and turning in the crib, sometimes crying for no apparent reason. Elsa began to spend nights with her child, drawing glowing patterns of snow and frost to lull the baby to sleep. It was on one such night that the Queen, while focussing on a particularly detailed snowflake, heard a gurgle from Thomas in the crib. It was thus that the little prince learned to laugh.

Week ten, and Thomas began to grow a mop of startling platinum-blonde hair. Although the King and Queen were pleased at the child's development, Anna was not. "What respectable man has _platinum-blonde_ hair?" she exclaimed. To prove her point, the younger sister took one of Henrik's portraits and painted the King's dark brown hair what _she_ thought was a good impression of platinum-blonde. Anna was very pleased with herself when she managed to sneak into the royal bedchamber without waking the Queen and place the doctored portrait in front of the mirror. She was less pleased when she discovered her mattress frozen solid that night.

Six months after birth, the little prince began enunciating. Although it started with unimpressive gurgling and squealing, within three weeks Thomas had learned the magic word. "Muh….ma….ma….mama!" Elsa pronounced it the happiest moment of her life, while a sullen Henrik grumbled about how "the mother always gets the recognition."

By the seventh month, the child was no longer satisfied with the confines of his room. At the utter fascination of Annabeth, Christopher, and Olaf, Thomas began to learn to crawl. From the first tentative "steps", Thomas had the most avid teachers imaginable. Anna and Kristoff would often find their children down on their hands and knees, teaching the crown prince the fine intricacies of quadrupedal locomotion. When he finally did learn to crawl with proficiency, the little prince took to roaming the halls with Annabeth and Christopher, accompanying them as far as his limbs could hold out.

It was in his tenth month, however, that little Tom made his most monumental development of all.

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It was a hot summer's day. The Queen and King were engaged in a diplomatic meeting with yet _another_ ambassador from Weselton, leaving Thomas in the care of Anna and Kristoff. With the Snow Queen too busy to play and Olaf nowhere in sight, the children quickly grew hot and very bothered.

"Mama! Too hot!" moaned Christopher from his position on the hardwood floor.

"I'm gonna melt like… like daddy's ice!" Annabeth slumped into the rocking chair in the corner.

Kristoff raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm all sold out, I got none to spare! And it's no great wonder why people would be needing it today…"

Anna was feeling very hot and sticky herself. "Oh, it almost makes Elsa's Great Freeze seem like a paradise! All that cool ice and snow… I'll bet the Queen's not even bothered by the heat!" And with that, she launched into a huge monologue, mostly detailing how unfair it was that her sister had ice powers while Anna was stuck in the sweltering heat with nothing but her sweat to cool her.

Throughout the whole exchange, little Tom was seated in the centre of the floor, seemingly unfazed by the heat, playing with several wooden blocks. Had anyone taken notice of the little prince, they would have been surprised to see not a single bead of sweat upon the boy's skin. Had they moved in closer to the child, they would have been even more surprised to discover a sudden drop in temperature. Alas, the aunt, uncle, and cousins paid little attention to Thomas due to their discomfort.

Finally, Anna could take no more. "Alright! I can't stand this heat a moment longer! Kristoff, get Sven hooked to the carriage. We're going to the Wading Pool. Right now. Right this second."

A few minutes later, a reindeer pulling a small carriage cantered through the streets of Arendelle. Kristoff, guiding Sven, took the familiar mountain path into the forest. Through the forest flowed a stream, carrying meltwater from the high peaks above. The stream in question was a playful, lively thing, bubbling over its bed of rocks with fervor and apparent delight. At one point, not far from the path, the stream flowed into a shallow depression in the rocky landscape, forming a small pond. This pond Anna had dubbed the "Wading Pool", and the royal family often took their children up here to play in the water. The pool was five metres at its widest point, and had a maximum depth of one, thus presenting little threat of drowning.

Now, stopping the carriage, Kristoff helped his wife, children, and nephew disembark. Anna and her children gleefully ran to the pool, jumping in and immediately commencing to splash each other with the cold, pure water. Kristoff sat on a slab of rock beside the pool, holding Thomas in his arms. "You can't even walk yet Tom," he said apologetically. "Another year, and maybe you'll be able to join them." The mountain man smiled at his nephew. "Besides, you're Elsa's son. The heat shouldn't bother you, anyway."

But Thomas wasn't about to let Annabeth and Christopher have fun without him. Wriggling in Kristoff's grasp, the child exclaimed over and over. "Play! Play!"

Kristoff groaned. "Thomas, you're too young! And plus, if you get hurt under my care, your mother will freeze me in an ice cube for a week!"

But Thomas would have none of it.

Kristoff's hands were suddenly cold. Freezing cold. Dropping his nephew with a gasp, he rubbed his hands together instinctively. "Ow!" he exclaimed. What had just happened?

Looking over, Kristoff saw Thomas speedily crawling towards the pool, where his cousins still played, oblivious. "Thomas, no! Anna, help!" Anna turned, surprise evident on her face.

"Kristoff? What's wrong?"

The mountain man lunged for his nephew, but it was too late. With a little squeak of fear, the little prince slipped off the rocky precipice and tumbled into the pool. Only, he never broke the surface.

There was a flash. A crackling sound. A cold gust. And suddenly Thomas was sliding across the now _frozen_ surface of the pool, his face a comical mask of shock.

The silence was broken by a cacophony of screams.

"Cold! Cold!"

"Stuck!"

"Ahhhh! Help, Kristoff, _help_!"

Kristoff turned and, sure enough, Anna and the children were stuck fast in solid ice up to their waists. "Hang on, I'm coming!" Sprinting to the pool, Kristoff scooped up Thomas. The boy offered no resistance as the mountain man then ran back to the carriage, practically throwing the little prince in the back seat.

"Where is it, where _is it_?!" Frantically pawing through the bundle of emergency supplies, Kristoff finally came across what he was looking for. "AHA!" He triumphantly yelled, a flint and steel in his hand. With his other, Kristoff grabbed a torch from the supplies, and peeled back out towards the pool.

The situation was beginning to turn dire. Even in the summer heat, Anna was shivering profusely, her lips an unhealthy blue tinge. Kristoff was suddenly reminded of when Elsa had frozen the woman's heart, on a fateful day over four years ago. With renewed ferocity, he smashed the flint and steel together above the unlit torch. "C'mon, _c'mon_! Light!"

Finally, the sparks caught. Kristoff quickly held the torch as close to his wife's legs as he dared, the open flames vaporizing the ice on contact. After melting a sufficient amount of the ice as to allow Anna to free herself, the mountain man turned to his children. Annabeth was unsuccessfully trying to pull her legs out of the pond with her arms, while Christopher simply stood there and shivered, his breath coming forth in ragged gasps. "Hold on Annabeth, I've got to free your brother first!" Without waiting for a reply, Kristoff quickly went to work on his son's legs. "That's it, Daddy's got you!"

"C-c-cold" Christopher moaned.

Kristoff pulled his son out of the frozen pool, setting him down on the shore. "Stay here with Mama, and get warm. Daddy's gotta help your sister".

With the help of the torch, it wasn't long before the final victim was freed from the pool's icy grasp. As the family lay on the slabs of stone surrounding the pool, rubbing feeling back into their limbs, they were suddenly very grateful for the blazing sun. After a breathless pause, Anna asked the inevitable question. "What happened?"

Kristoff rubbed the back of his head, an expression of confusion and worry upon his face. "I was just trying to save Tom from falling in, and then… this." He gestured to the expanse of frozen water before them. When he got no response, Kristoff looked over at his wife, only to see an expression of excitement on her face, a gleam in her eyes.

"Kristoff, don't you see? This can only mean one thing!" Anna suddenly grabbed her husband's arm. "Where's Tom?"

Opening the door to the carriage, the couple felt both physical and emotional cold wash over them. For on the red leather seat sat the little prince, confusion and wonder evident on his features as tendrils of frost spread outwards from his body, covering the seat in delicate patterns of ice. "Oh," said the mountain man, at that point very much in shock.

Kristoff and Anna looked to each other. "Elsa," they said in unison.


	4. Cold Awakenings

_**Disclaimer: Disney is the owner of Frozen and its characters. I own the rest.**_

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**Chapter 4: Cold Awakenings**

"Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider!" After two whole hours of negotiation, the flustered ambassador from Weselton had yet to even make a chink in the Queen's cold determination.

"Your cries fall upon deaf ears, ambassador." Elsa levelled her gaze at the smarmy man, icy eyes piercing in their intensity. "I have made it abundantly clear that the will be no negotiation of trade re-establishment until a new Duke is appointed!" The Queen leaned forward ever so slightly. "The current Duke tried to have me assassinated. I will not let go of that fact lightly." An arctic wind whistled through the room. A warning.

The ambassador was quite on edge now. "What of the King? Why isn't he present? I should like to hear his opinions on the matter!" His voice cracked on the last word.

"The King was present but an hour ago! Given that you did not make a single step of progress with him, I highly doubt his current presence would change matters." Elsa restrained herself from rolling her eyes. The man was truly getting desperate. "Do you have any further arguments or proposals?"

The ambassador licked his lips nervously. "Your Majesty…"

"Are there any further proposals, ambassador." It was a statement, not a question.

The man looked downwards in shame. "N-no, Majesty."

Elsa stood. "Then my answer is no. Meeting adjourned!" The Queen slammed the trade documents on the table with finality.

* * *

Kristoff urged Sven to a sprint, the carriage cannoning down the mountain path at a precarious pace. Inside, the family looked in silence upon the crown prince. Finally, Annabeth broke the tension. "Tom has… powers? Like Auntie Elsa?" Thomas perked up at the name.

"Mama!" he exclaimed. Anna started.

"That's right! Tom is Elsa's son! She must have passed her powers on to him!"

Thomas clapped his hands together, bouncing gleefully when a flurry of snowflakes burst through the air. "Snow!" giggled the little prince.

Christopher was still sullen from the icy incident that ruined his day. "Why Tom have powers _now_?" he grumbled.

Anna held her son, contemplating the thought. "Well, we don't know when Elsa started using her powers either! So, maybe the ability only shows up at a certain age?" Christopher still wasn't satisfied.

"Mama, what are we gonna _do_?"

Anna looked into her son's eyes, straightening her back with determination. "I'm gonna talk to my sister."

* * *

The Queen stalked through the halls of the castle, casting a literal chill upon her surroundings. Frost formed at her feet; flowers wilted in their vases at the sudden cold. _Why won't that damned Duke stop pestering me?_ she thought savagely. _He should have known the consequences of an attempted assassination! And yet he still thinks I'll repeal my ban._ Walking into the study, Elsa slammed the door shut. Sweeping across the room, the Snow Queen threw herself upon her desk. She sighed, the neat stacks of documents, letters, and proposals blurring in and out of focus.

Elsa knew the real reasons behind her frustration all too well. Every ambassador from Weselton, every peace treaty from the Southern Isles, even every confirmation of Prince Hans' continuing prison sentence was a cold, painful reminder of her mistakes. "Christmas in July", the citizens had dubbed it. If only they knew how easily it could return…

Elsa shook her head. _No_. She was in control now. She had her sister, and now she had her husband and son. Love will thaw. The past was in the past.

Opening her eyes, the Queen picked up her fountain pen and began working through the mountain of parchment before her.

* * *

"Excuse me! Coming through!" Townspeople turned their heads in confusion toward the sound of the voice, to find a reindeer pulling a small carriage thundering through the Arendellian streets. Kristoff patted Sven's heaving flank. "Just a bit more, buddy! To the castle!"

The guards, spotting the carriage, hastily opened the gates, holding on to their shakos with expressions of shock as the reindeer careened through them, missing impact by a hair's breadth. Kristoff pulled on the reins, slowing the panting creature to a stop in the courtyard. Anna and the children quickly disembarked, Thomas cradled in his aunt's arms.

Within moments, Kai and Gerda had rushed from the castle gates to receive the entourage. "Your Highnesses, you look awfully rushed! What seems to be the matter?" asked Gerda, a tinge of worry in her tone. After all, the last time Kristoff and Sven were in such a hurry, Anna was dying from a frozen heart.

Anna looked to the servants. "We need to speak to Elsa immediately!"

Kai folded his arms in front of him. "Her Majesty is very busy at the moment! What is the situation?"

"It's Thomas. He seems to have developed ice powers similar to the Queen's," explained Kristoff. Kai's forehead wrinkled in shock.

"Right this way then! Hurry now!" And with that, the servant was off through the halls, Anna hot on his heels, Thomas in her arms.

Kai slowed to a halt in front of the closed study door, taking a deep breath to even his racing heart. "I'm not as spry as I once was," the servant grumbled. He turned the ornate brass handle.

* * *

_Dear Snow Queen,_

_ The Kingdom of Bray sends its kindest regards. We are a small, peaceful nation, and we offer you our hand in alliance and trade. We believe that such an agreement would be mutually beneficial, and as such, we will be sending an emissary to Arendelle in hopes of reaching a diplomatic accord with you. The ship should arrive within a fortnight._

_ His Highness,_

_ King Victar of Bray_

Elsa supported her forehead in her palm. Such matters as this should rightfully have been addressed to Henrik, the King. The fact that the letter was sent to pointedly to her, the _Snow Queen_, spoke a very clear message. Even after half a decade of peace, with Elsa constantly expressing her aversion to involving her powers in conflict of any sort, nations still feared her. That fear could turn to drastic action; another assassination attempt, or worse. The Queen sighed for the umpteenth time. As a child, Grand Pabbie had warned that fear would be her enemy. Elsa never thought he meant it this literally.

The sound of the study door opening snapped her back to reality. The Queen whirled in the direction of the noise.

"Your Majesty," began Kai, his face carefully devoid of emotion. However, the servant's flushed cheeks and quickened breath did not go unnoticed by the Queen.

"Kai, is something the matter?"

"Your sister wishes to have a word with you." There was an urgency to his voice that did not match the statement.

"It's about Thomas."

Elsa's retort died on her lips at the sound of the name. Taking care not to freeze anything, she took a deep, calming breath. "Very well. Let her in, and fetch the King!"

The servant bowed respectfully before taking his leave, nearly colliding with Anna on her way in. Elsa practically leapt toward her sister, taking her son and meticulously checking every inch of him for injuries. When she discovered Thomas unblemished, the Queen let out a silent breath of relief. The little prince looked up onto Elsa's eyes. "Mama!" he giggled.

Turning to her sister, Elsa asked in a suspicious tone. "Anna, what did you do?"

Anna shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Well, it started like this. It was really hot in the morning, right? So the kids were all moaning about the heat, and so I decided, hey, let's go up the mountain to the Wading Pool to cool off!"

Elsa was already flabbergasted. "You _what?! _ Anna, Thomas is way too young to be playing there!"

"Sshhh! I know, I'm getting to that! So anyway, we all took Sven's carriage up the mountain. When we finally got to the place, the kids and I jumped in the pool immediately." Anna closed her eyes. "Aaaah, that was refreshing."

"Anna, you're way too _old_ to be playing there." This time, the Queen's voice carried a hint of amusement.

The younger sister paused her retelling to stick her tongue at Elsa.

"So, Kristoff was looking after Tom, sitting on the bank. But apparently, Tom really wanted to play with Annabeth and Christopher. Somehow, he got away from Kristoff and he fell in the pool." Anna paused for dramatic effect. Elsa made a mental note to reprimand Kristoff about his slip later on.

"And the pool _froze solid_. We were all stuck in ice up to our waists! Kristoff had to get a torch in order to free us! And Tom… well, when we got back to the carriage, the whole area where he was sitting was covered in frost!" By this point, Anna's eyes were bugging out so much that Elsa feared their departure from her head. "Elsa… I think Thomas has powers!"

At that moment, the King burst into the study. "Where is he? Where is my son!" Elsa quickly moved over to Henrik, handing Thomas to her husband.

"Papa!" Thomas exclaimed happily. Instead of calming down as Elsa expected, however, Henrik inhaled in shock.

"He's ice cold!" he exclaimed.

It was Elsa's turn for her eyes to bug out. "_What?!_" The Queen quickly felt her son's hands, and then his forehead. Sure enough, they matched her skin in temperature. Elsa held her hands out in front of her, looking at them in horror. "Did… did I do this?" Snow began falling in the study as the temperature suddenly plummeted in response to the Snow Queen's sudden angst.

Anna rushed forward. "No, Elsa! Don't you see? Thomas is like you! I don't know why they didn't show earlier, but he has ice powers like yours!" The younger sister could see that Elsa was still unconvinced. She turned to the little prince in Henrik's arms. "Tom, make some snow."

Thomas waved his hand in front of his face, a light scattering of snowflakes falling from his hand onto his mother's face. "Mama! Snow!" he giggled gleefully. Both parents gasped in shock. For a moment, there was nothing but deafening silence. Snowflakes hung suspended in the air, slowly dissipating into nothingness.

"See?" said Anna in triumph.

Ironically, it was Henrik who recovered first. "Well, he always did take after you, love."

Still a bit dazed, Elsa held her hand in front of her son, palm up, balancing a glowing nimbus of gently drifting snow. Thomas stared at it for a while, the threw up his arms, giggling in delight as his mother's snow was drowned out by his own. Elsa laughed, and Anna thought she had never heard a sound so truly joyous.

The Queen turned to her sister, eyes bright with a light long unkindled. "Anna, tell Kristoff we're going to pay his family a visit."

* * *

It was thus that the royal family in its entirety found themselves travelling swiftly up the mountain path under the awakening night sky. Due to the fact that there was no carriage large enough to carry them all, the royals rode on horseback, or, in Kristoff's case, reindeer-back. Even Olaf was there, at his regular position on Sven's rump, his flurry chugging away above him.

Indeed, the little snowman had been all _but_ surprised when he learned of Thomas' developing powers. "Finally!" had been his (very excited) response to the news. When Elsa and Anna had simply stared at him in shock, Olaf had grown quite self-conscious. "Guys? What's the matter? Did I misplace my nose again? Elsa, you'd tell me if I did, right?"

The Queen had then recovered enough to ask the snowman the burning question. "Olaf… how… how did you know?"

"Pffft! C'mon Elsa, he's your _son_! What did you expect, _fire_ powers?" Admittedly, the little snowman's logic had been sound.

Now, as they neared the geysers that marked the boundaries of the Valley of the Living Rock, the entourage reached a point where their horses refused to travel further. They reared and kicked, screaming as if faced with an invisible barrier. The royal family was forced to dismount.

"Something about the place spooks the horses," explained Kristoff apologetically from his position on Sven's back. "The rest of you will have to go on foot from here." Olaf gave a sheepish little wave.

"What about Sven? How come he isn't affected?" Henrik inquired.

Kristoff gave a shrug. "He's a reindeer, and reindeers aren't horses," the mountain man said simply.

With a flourish, Elsa summoned a thin pillar of ice from the ground before them, securing their steeds to it by their reins. "This will keep them from running off," she said. Anna was positively captivated by the display. Elsa snapped her sister out of her trance with a rather large snowball. "My powers may be dangerous, but I never said they weren't useful," the Queen stated with a sniff.

The younger sister blew snow from her hair. "Yeah, and don't forget totally unfair!" was the retort.

"Guys? Keep up!" Kristoff's voice drifted back to them through the mists.

When the group finally reached the centre of the Valley, Kristoff dismounted from Sven and turned to face his family. "Well, kids, the last time I took you guys up here, Annabeth was a year old, and you, Christopher, you were still a little baby! So you guys probably don't remember." He turned to face the seemingly empty Valley. "Kids, meet my family!" The mountain man spread his arms wide in a grand gesture of presentation.

Christopher was not impressed. "Daddy! No trolls, just rocks!" the boy pouted. Anna ruffled her son's hair.

"That's what I thought the first time too! Turns out, the rocks _are_ the trolls!"

As if on cue, a particularly large rock by Kristoff's foot suddenly sprung to life. "Kristoff's home!" it exclaimed, and then proceeded to tackle the man to the ground.

"Aw, Ma!" There was a tinge of red to the mountain man's cheeks. Henrik gave a slightly mocking chuckle.

"So _that's_ your mother, Bjorgman?"

Kristoff's reply was drowned out by deafening noise similar to a landslide. With a chorus of "Kristoff's home!" and "He brought the kids!", all the trolls of the Valley unrolled from their rocky states and leapt upon the family. Elsa and Henrik looked on in amusement as Annabeth and Christopher were quickly encircled by excited trolls, while in the mean time their parents were literally buried under a pile of Kristoff's (very heavy) relatives.

Things continued like this for the better part of ten minutes. Trolls bowed respectfully to the King and Queen, politely inquiring about the physical traits and health of the new Crown Prince; on the other side of the Valley, trolls leapt upon Anna and Kristoff repeatedly, while buoying Annabeth and Christopher on a sea of supporting hands.

Suddenly, from the back of the crowd came an ancient voice. "Let me through!"

Abruptly, the ruckus died down. The mass of trolls stepped aside in unison to form a path for one particularly worn and wizened specimen. The old troll slowly uncurled, producing a gnarled staff from the folds of his mossy cloak. "There is an unnatural abundance of elemental magic here tonight," the troll began in a gravelly voice, looking straight at Elsa. "An abundance that even the Queen's presence cannot explain entirely."

Elsa strode forward to meet the old troll, Thomas in her arms. "The reason for my visit tonight may offer an explanation. Though, admittedly, a family reunion has been long overdue." The Queen turned to smile at Kristoff, who returned it with a sheepish grin from his position under a mound of troll-children.

In the background, Annabeth grew a bit uneasy. "Mama? Who's that?" Anna patted her daughter's hair.

"That's Grand Pabbie, dear. He's a very wise old troll, and he's gonna help Tom."

Elsa showed Thomas to Pabbie, Henrik at her side. "This is our son, Thomas. Since birth, he's been perfectly normal, and a beacon of good health, with no sign of any elemental magic. But just today, he froze an entire mountain pond! He's even learned to make flurries of snow just by waving his hands."

"And his skin's grown ice cold!" Henrik added.

Grand Pabbie placed the index and middle fingers of his left hand upon the child's temple, closing his eyes as if in silent contemplation. When the old troll opened them again, he turned to the monarchs with a reassuring smile. "Your Majesties, you needn't worry about little Thomas' health." Pabbie focussed his gaze at Elsa. "Although this may be unknown to you, Elsa, your own abilities did not begin to manifest until you were a full year old, according to your parents. The same is now happening with your son. The ice is awakening within him. From now on, his powers will only grow stronger."

The old troll's tone grew grave. "But I foresee great conflict in this child's future." Turning to the sky, Pabbie waved his arms, manipulating the auroras into an image. The image of a young man, dressed in glittering white. Shadows of others crept at the lone figure, their malicious intent obvious in the weapons of murder clutched in their hands. In Elsa's arms, the real Thomas let out a weak cry of fear. "Many will fear him for his abilities. They may try to hurt him, to remove him from the throne." In the auroras, the white figure settled into a fighting stance, waving his arms at the shadowy foes. Spikes of ice shot forth, impaling the would-be assassins. "But Thomas is unlike you, Elsa. Fear will not be his greatest enemy. His greatest enemy will be hatred."

The old troll put his arms back by his sides, the glowing images dissipating into the night. Pabbie moved close to the Queen, taking a firm hold of her hand, his eyes deep and soulful. "Teach him control, yes, teach him courage. But above all else, Elsa, teach the boy forgiveness. Teach him compassion. Teach him love."

* * *

**_REVIEWS PLEASE! Questions, comments, criticism, everything is welcome!_**


	5. Dangerous Power

_**Disclaimer: I am not the one who owns Frozen. In fact, no single person owns Frozen anyway :3**_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Dangerous Power**

The next three years of Thomas' life passed by with blissful ease. The little prince progressed rapidly in speech and comprehension, quickly nearing the level of his older cousins in such fields. By his second birthday, Thomas was already able to walk surely and steadily, and he learned soon after to run, to the utter delight of Annabeth, Christopher, and Olaf. It was then that the quartet became truly inseparable. From then on, they were often found roaming the castle together, their childhood joy infectious to onlookers, though it was usually swiftly negated by the shenanigans that erupted in their wake. The cooks quickly came to fear the children's pillaging hands, and guarding dessert once again became a wearisome and difficult task, as it hadn't been in the decades since Anna was a child.

Thomas' powers progressed just as quickly as his other traits. By age two, they had intensified from light, harmless flurries to sudden frosts and flash freezing, given the child's mood. As the little prince's powers became more substantial, Elsa took to mentoring her son on the subject, in an effort to teach the boy control over his budding abilities. Thankfully, the Snow Queen found no trouble in thawing her son's handiwork, and so major property damage was avoided, for the most part.

From as early as he could comprehend it, Thomas was made aware of the danger his powers presented. Elsa repeatedly told her son the stories of her own childhood, how she hurt Anna, and how she struggled in vain for control all those years afterwards. The little prince had yet to be told of the story of Anna's frozen heart, however, as the Queen deemed it too dark a tale to impart upon the young boy as of yet. Nonetheless, Elsa took every opportunity to stress the importance of love. "Love will thaw" quickly became her mantra to Thomas.

Alas, Thomas lead a very carefree existence his first three years of life. He lived in the blissful ignorance of childhood, his mother's tales of strife nothing more than spoken words, with little value aside from their stories.

Of course, it was then that the first inklings of darkness began to seep in.

* * *

It was deep winter. Thomas had just celebrated his fourth birthday a mere two months ago. Late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to redden in pallor, reflecting off the freshly fallen snow with a soft golden glow. In the courtyard, four figures frolicked in the winter wonderland.

"Heads up!" Olaf yelled, launching a snowball with surprising strength from his right twig-arm. His intended target feinted to the left, ducking behind one of the frozen fountains for cover. Annabeth giggled as snowballs continued to land around her, Olaf evidently trying to find the correct arc trajectory to hit the girl from behind the fountain.

Suddenly, with a cry, Christopher made a leap at the offending snowman from the side, landing a snowball straight in Olaf's mouth. The snowman in question desperately tried to cough the snow back up, eventually settling with taking off his head and physically shaking the snow out of his mouth. Christopher cheered in triumph.

"Anna, Anna! Did you see? I got Olaf in the _mouth_!" The boy jumped up and down in glee.

Annabeth walked tentatively from her sheltered position, only to have a snowball slam into the side of her head not a moment after. She turned and, sure enough, there stood Thomas, another snowball already in hand.

"Did you forget about me?" the little prince asked with a smirk. His answer came as a hail of snowballs as the two siblings retaliated against their young cousin. Thomas quickly waved his hand to summon a large snowdrift to hide behind.

"Hey, not fair!" whined Christopher. "Olaf, come help us get Tom!" The little snowman plopped his head back on his shoulders, still as buoyant as ever.

"OK!" he agreed cheerfully.

The trio split up, predators stalking their lone prey. Annabeth came from the left, Christopher from the right, and Olaf scaled Thomas' snowdrift for a three-pronged surprise assault. Only, they met nothing but more snow on the other side.

Before anyone had time to discover his ploy, Thomas sprung from his hiding place within the snowdrift itself, nailing both his cousins with snowballs in quick succession, then literally putting Olaf to pieces as he flattened the snowdrift with a wave.

"Guys, a little help?" But the excited children payed the snowman no heed, already in hot persuit of Thomas, who was making a beeline for the stairs. "Ugh, I'm all over the place today!" Olaf's head grumbled, watching helplessly as his abdomen rolled away from him.

* * *

From the balcony high above, Elsa watched the children, smiling at their antics. This was the childhood her son deserved, as opposed to being locked in his room for over decade in a vain attempt to conceal, as she had been. At that, the Queen felt a pang of guilt.

_It wasn't their fault_, she reminded herself, thinking of her parents, and of their many failed attempts at control. _They never dared believe that this was possible, that I could use my powers without hurting anyone_.

Tears welled up, obscuring Elsa's vision. She angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. _No_. She had been done crying long ago. The past was in the past.

* * *

Annabeth and Christopher, with their longer legs, had almost caught up to Thomas, the snowballs in their hands already locked on target. In his haste to escape, the little prince slipped on a patch of ice and fell upon the snow. He was quickly pelted by his cousins.

"This is what you get for using your powers, you cheater!" Annabeth yelled as she and her brother continued to rain snowballs upon Thomas. In the heat of the moment, the siblings failed to notice the little prince's joyful giggles turn to fearful whimpers. They failed to see the snow turn to ice beneath his feet, failed to hear his whispered cries for relent.

They did notice the sudden wall of razor-sharp spikes that materialized soon after, however.

Annabeth and Christopher fell backwards, panting heavily in shock. From behind his protective arc of icy spears, Thomas stood up, tears falling freely down his cheeks. "I told you to stop. Why didn't you _stop?!_"

* * *

From the balcony, Elsa watched the progressions with mounting tension. There was her son, running, his pursuers quickly gaining on him. The Queen let out a little gasp when Thomas slipped and fell, his cousins pelting him with glee. When Thomas made no move of retaliation, Elsa was already stepping off the balcony, a staircase of ice coalescing beneath her feet. It was there that the Queen looked upon her son's act of panic, at Annabeth and Christopher being thrown off their feet by the blast, at Thomas' tearful cries.

"I told you to stop. Why didn't you _stop?!_"

Elsa was suddenly whipped back to that fateful night of her coronation ball, to her confrontation with Anna, and its result. _"Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the _world_ out? What are you so _afraid of?!"

_"I said _ENOUGH!"

Casting decorum completely aside, Elsa threw her hands out in front of her, the staircase morphing into a crude slide in her haste to reach her son. Finally hitting the ground, the Queen ran towards the scene as quickly as her heels would allow, the snow hardening beneath her feet in her panic.

"_Thomas!_" she yelled.

* * *

It was Annabeth who recovered first. "Tom, I… we… we didn't hear you!" she tried to explain, a note of fear in her voice. Thomas had by then calmed a bit, the tears no longer flowing freely.

"You should have stopped anyway!" the little prince sniffled, his voice cracking a bit. "It was hurting!"

"I'm… I'm sorry! I didn't see…" Annabeth continued to plead. Christopher, on the other hand, had begun to back away from Thomas' icy spikes, horror evident on his features.

At that moment of tension, a clear, commanding voice broke the heavy atmosphere.

"_Thomas!"_

The children all turned their heads to the sound, to see Elsa bolting towards the scene, her expression grim, though it could not conceal the lines of worry that still showed through. "Ma… mama?" Thomas replied, his voice hardly above a whisper. Upon seeing their aunt, Annabeth and Christopher quickly stood up, brushing the snow off their clothes and standing guiltily beside each other.

"Thomas, what is the meaning of this?" Elsa gestured at the icy spikes, gleaming gold in the setting sun.

"I… They kept hitting me with snowballs, and it hurt! I told them to stop, but they didn't listen, so I had to _make_ them stop!" At this, Thomas began to cry again. Elsa moved to her son and pulled him into an embrace, looking over Thomas' shoulder at Annabeth and Christopher.

"Go to your mother, children," she said to the siblings, who still stood mutely by each other. Annabeth and Christopher turned as one and made for the stairs, a somehow reassembled Olaf chasing after them.

As the trio entered the castle, Annabeth stuck her head back out the doorway, a sad look in her eyes. "I really am sorry, Tom. Please forgive us." The door shut.

Thomas stayed in Elsa's arms for a while, healing in her motherly love. With a slight motion, the Snow Queen thawed the looming spikes, the ice sublimating into the afternoon air. She put her son at arm's distance, looking into his slate grey eyes. "Thomas, I need you to tell me, what were you _feeling_ when you created the spikes?"

Thomas sniffled a bit, turning away from his mother's intense gaze. "I felt… scared at first, when they started hitting me. But, when Anna and Chris didn't stop, even when I told them to…" The little prince looked back into Elsa's eyes. "I got… _angry_ at them. I wanted to _make_ them stop."

Elsa took both of Thomas' hands in her own, kneading them almost unconsciously. "Thomas, with great power comes great responsibility. No matter what you are feeling, you must _never_ use your powers to harm another person." Elsa's tone was grave, but not scolding, letting Thomas understand his mistake by himself. "What you did just now was wrong, Thomas. You could have seriously injured Anna or Chris. You could have _killed them_."

The tears began to flow once more from Thomas' eyes. "I… I never wanted to hurt them! It just happened!" Elsa took out her handkerchief and wiped the saltiness from the little prince's eyes, pulling him into an embrace once more.

"I know, my little love. Believe me, I know."

When mother and son finally pulled away from each other, Thomas was no longer crying. Elsa gave Thomas a reassuring smile. "Now, that doesn't mean you _can't _use your powers." Elsa continued. "Use them for defense, never to attack." Raising her arm, the Snow Queen raised a large convex shield of ice from the ground. "Find a solution that will protect you, but not hurt the opponent." The little prince stared wide-eyed at the display, then proceeded to attempt the creation of his own shield. Elsa smiled as her son's brow furrowed in concentration, a light scattering of snow beginning to fall around him. In the end, however, Thomas only managed to raise a rough slab of ice from the ground.

Elsa ruffled Thomas' hair. "That's something we can work on. Precision." Turning serious again, the Queen brushed the snow off of the little prince's clothes. "When we go for dinner, I want you to apologise to Annabeth and Christopher. Also, I'm halving your chocolate supply for this week." Thomas frowned.

"A whole_ week?_" he whined. In his heart, however, the little prince knew it could have ended a lot worse.


	6. Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted

_**Disclaimer: Disney keeps its ownership of Frozen and its characters. I keep my creativity**_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted**

They say time heals all wounds, and this was certainly true in regard to the integrity of the infamous quartet. Although fear drove them apart at first, Thomas' genuine apologies and want for forgiveness eventually restitched the rip in the fabric of his friendship with Annabeth and Christopher. Olaf helped as he could, dealing out as many warm hugs as possible to dull the barbs stuck in the children's relationship by Thomas' act of panic. It wasn't long before the quartet was whole and active again, roaming the halls together once more.

At age five, Thomas began his studies. It was quickly evident that geometry and arithmetic were his forte, though the little prince was keen on all of his subjects. His first geometry teacher had resigned from his position, though, due to Thomas' habit of using his powers to physically create models of what he was being taught. The little prince also found rhetoric classes particularly enjoyable, as they taught him how to win almost any argument against his older cousins, a skill which he found most useful.

Thomas also became an avid chess player, in no small part because of his father's own mastery over the game. Many late nights were spent by the light of the fireplace, the warm, homely glow flickering off the pieces on the board. Thomas' brow furrowed in concentration, hand slowly moving toward his knight, only to have it flinch back at a sudden rebuke.

"Ah, ah, ah! Can't move that knight! You see, I have it pinned to your king with my bishop. If he moves, the king will be in check!" Thomas frowned, then picked up his other knight.

"Ha! Check!"

Henrik raised an eyebrow, taking the knight with his queen. His son's frown returned deeper than before. The King laughed.

"Oh, Tom, it'll be a while yet before you can best me at my own game! Your move!"

As he learned mastery over chess with his father, Thomas learned mastery over his powers with his mother. With over a year of practice, the little prince had learned to create a perfect shield of ice, complete with a strategic crystal alignment to make it able to withstand the maximum amount of force possible, without yielding. To Elsa's dismay, however, Thomas quickly turned to crafting other, less defensive creations. The little prince's interest in such things was only intensified by his love for stories of high adventure, often involving knights wielding the most extensive array of medieval weapons imaginable.

When Thomas turned six, Elsa showed him to his new room, which had finally been completed after almost a full year's work. The doors, embroidered with frost and snowflake patterns, opened to reveal a crisp hexagonal space, with hardly a wooden surface in sight. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all constructed of marble and stone, glinting coldly in the morning sun. A bed sat in one of the far corners, a fireplace positioned at the wall opposite to it, and a grandfather clock ticked away by the door. The only wooden aspects of the room were the shelves and tables, though they, too, were heavily laminated. The room had been designed specifically to accommodate for its inhabitant's powers, though the architects never knew of the fact. It would never be particularly warm, but Thomas loved it nonetheless. Here, the little prince could use his abilities to their full capacity, without worrying about damaging wood with damp and temperature, and potentially bringing the roof down upon his head. Here, Thomas was truly free. And it was here that the his powers grew.

By age eight, Thomas was able to conjure an assortment of weapons on a whim. Spears, pikes, maces, and hammers he was able to bring in hand with a thought and a bit of concentration. The little prince's point of pride, however, was his sword. Though still a work in progress, it was already a sight to behold. A clear, translucent blade of the densest ice, deep iridescent blue, its crystals pointing outwards, giving it the strength to hit and parry like its equivalent of iron. Annabeth and Christopher came to love watching their younger cousin practice, Christopher especially. "Now make a javelin, Tom!" the excited boy would often yell. "Now make a trident!" Thankfully, Thomas had been taught how to thaw his ice immediately after the incident with the ice spikes, so such antics were usually hidden from his mother.

Elsa, however, was far from oblivious to her son's obsessions. Grand Pabbie's warnings echoed in the back of her mind, a haunting reminder of the dark path Thomas could potentially take. Yet, the Queen had no constructive arguments to sway the little prince. What Elsa really needed was a way to distract the boy, to give him something else to do besides crafting weapons. She took up the subject with her husband in his private study.

"Well, there's a very easy fix to that!" Henrik said, after a moment of beard-scratching. "The boy loves his adventure stories. Challenge him to make a full suit of armour! That should keep him occupied for a week." The King chuckled at the thought. "And what's more, armour is solely defensive!"

Elsa mused over the prospect, a smile slowly bringing light to her features. "That's not a bad idea, actually." Henrik grinned.

"It wouldn't do for you to have married a dotard, love!"

The Queen pecked him on the cheek, rising to take her leave.

"You flatter yourself," Elsa's voice drifted back through the closing study door. Henrik chuckled again.

* * *

Thomas yawned, stretching under his bedsheets. The warm light of the sun filtered through his eyelids, turning the world behind them a bright sea of pink. The little prince sighed, a contented sound, snuggling back into the pillow with a smile on his lips.

The moment of bliss was shattered by an insistent bout of knocking. "Your Highness. Your Highness!" came a muffled voice from behind the closed doors. Thomas groaned.

"C'mon, Kai! Five more minutes!" The boy broke into another jaw-cracking yawn.

"Your Highness, it's well past nine! Get up! Your tutor of physical sciences will be here in less than an hour, and on top of that you're going to miss breakfast!" At that, Thomas started. Opening his eyes a crack, the little prince peered at the grandfather clock by the door. The glaring right angle formed by its hands persuaded him to do as the servant had said.

Leaping from his bed before drowsiness could reclaim him, Thomas opened the door to Kai, who promptly began to help the boy get dressed. Opening the door to Thomas' wardrobe, an unruly mess of clothing spilled atop the servant.

"Tom, you really need to get more organized!" Kai exclaimed. Seeing as the little prince was too busy putting on his stockings to listen, the servant sighed. "Which colour suit for the day, Highness?"

"Whichever matches my breeches and shoes at the moment!" Kai frowned down at the boy.

"Blue it is, then, though you really should put more thought to what you wear. First impressions are very important, especially concerning royalty like yourself!"

Thomas jumped to the servant, quickly threading his arms through the sleeves of the simple waistcoat, a solid blue colour with a bit of gold trim.

"Breakfast is more important at the moment!" the little prince replied cheekily, buttoning the waistcoat and stepping into his similarly decorated overcoat. Kai tsked, bending down to straighten Thomas' clothes.

"Then you should have woken sooner. Now you suffer the consequences! For your mother's son, you act a great deal like your aunt!"

A few moments later, Thomas rushed into the dining hall, ignoring his parents' silent (but meaningful) stares of disapproval, and quickly taking his seat beside Christopher. Anna laughed at the scene.

"Sometimes I think Tom is more like me than you, Elsa!"

"That's what Kai said," Thomas mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes. Henrik frowned, but decided to let the slip in etiquette slide for the moment. There were more pressing matters to discuss.

"Thomas, I have news for you. I've canceled your scheduled class with your physical sciences tutor for today. Now, before you get too excited,-" Thomas froze mid-cheer. "-the reason for this is because your mother has a lesson of her own for you. I heard she has some… assignments planned."

The boy's eyes quickly flitted to his mother, who continued to daintily pick at her breakfast as if she hadn't heard the statement. Thomas sunk a bit into his chair, Christopher's guilty looks not helping his anxiety. _Oh, I'm done for_, he thought, wilting a little. The little prince quickly scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, then bolted to his room.

Closing the door behind him, Thomas slid into his chair, breathing heavily from more than just his recent run. What was he going to do? His mother was obviously going to punish him in some way for creating those weapons. He thought she didn't know, but she _always_ knew! Who had he been kidding?

The sound of the door opening crashed his train of thought. Thomas turned slowly, trying desperately for nonchalance. "Hello, Mother." Elsa closed the door behind her, her face calm and impassive. "Hello, Thomas. Shall we begin? Let's start with your frost exercises." Thomas was shocked speechless.

"You… this is just a regular lesson?"

The Queen feigned a look of surprise. "Yes, of course. What else would it be?"

Thomas let out a quiet breath of relief, slowly standing from his chair. "No! Nothing! Nothing at all! Ahem!" Clearing his throat, the boy set his hands in front of him, legs shoulder width apart. Thomas closed his eyes, concentrating on the well of wintry magic within. Frost was the surface layer, the shallowest and least of his abilities, and took but a simple thought to summon. The temperature in the room took a dip as icy patterns began crackling to life beneath Thomas' feet.

Elsa watched, nodding with approval. "Alright, now for an exercise in precision: draw the Royal Seal." Thomas formed an image of the familiar symbol in his mind, the frost crawling along the marble floor, slowly coalescing into the three-petaled crocus. The little prince looked upon his creation, chest puffing out ever so slightly in pride.

"Very good!" Elsa praised. With a wave, the Queen erased the frosty Royal Seal from the floor. "Now for your real assignment this lesson. I know you've grown very proficient at creating medieval weapons from ice..." Elsa paused to let the statement sink in. Thomas gulped, mentally kicking himself for letting down his guard. Before he had a chance to speak, however, Elsa continued. "...so my assignment for you will be similar to that. Your assignment this week is to craft a complete suit of armour. You may use the ones at the foot of the banister as a guide, but you will receive no help from your father, nor I."

With a smile, the Snow Queen raised her hands slowly, slabs of ice rising from the floor at her whim. A few more motions, and the blocks began to take a rough humanoid shape. With a final flourish, a completed suit of armour now stood sentinel at the doorway, an exact replica of the ones on the first floor.

Thomas stood breathless, stunned by the display. "How…"

Elsa ruffled her son's hair, a smile playing at her lips. "I've had to fix the suit downstairs more times than I can count! Anna really had a knack of taking it apart one way or another." The Queen laughed at the memories. "I could probably build it in my sleep now!"

With another wave of her arms, Elsa thawed the statue. "Remember, one week. And this is not an excuse to skip classes!" By this point, Thomas was already itching to begin, bouncing about with barely contained excitement.

"I'll try to remember that, Mother!"

Elsa pulled her son into an embrace, then turned to leave. "I'll leave you to it, then!" With a final smile, the door closed on the Queen's silhouette .

* * *

Thomas threw himself into the project with a gusto. In the days that followed, the little prince kept the temperature in his room bitterly cold, as to prevent his work from melting in the spring air. At the start, Annabeth and Christopher spectated their younger cousin as he worked, but it wasn't long before their blue cheeks and lips forced the siblings to take their leave.

Thomas started from the ground up. Asking for one of the suits of armour by the stairs to be moved to his room, the little prince promptly disassembled it. His first attempt at creating a suit spontaneously from large slabs of ice, as his mother had, had not ended well. When he had showed it to Elsa, the Snow Queen had promptly melted the crude, undetailed statue to slush ("A _suit_ of armour, Thomas! Could somebody have worn that?"). Thus, Thomas decided to make a replica of every piece of the armour in ice, then assemble the suit by hand. He started with the boots, then the shin-guards, the knee-pieces, all the way up past the breastplate to the shoulder guards and helmet. It was slow work, for the little prince forced himself to be very precise, lest the pieces not fit together in the end.

By day four, Thomas had all the pieces of armour replicated. His suit of ice was ready for assembly. Turning to the original suit of armour, the little prince started. The heap of disassembled pieces lay glinting in the afternoon sun. Thomas groaned. He would never figure out how to put the suit back together in a month, much less three days! Resigned, the little prince called for Kai, who spent a long hour teaching the boy how to reassemble to armour.

_It's not really cheating_, Thomas reasoned, as he set to work on his ice replica. _Mother never said anything about not involving Kai!_

By the next evening, Thomas had fully assembled his suit of ice armour. He gingerly placed the helmet upon the completed body, closing the perforated visor. The boy stepped back with a sigh, looking upon his creation. The armour glinted a dark translucent blue, almost eerie in the darkness of night. It had a _personality_ to it, emanating the noble spirit of chivalry and adventure that Thomas so loved. The little prince felt accomplished, elated at his success. Tears of joy and pride sprang to Thomas' eyes, and the boy laughed aloud.

"I proclaim you Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted! Lover of adventure, protector of the weak and innocent! A knight truly worthy of his title!" And with that, the boy summoned forth his sword, tapping the suit of armour on the tip of its helmet with the flat of the icy blade.

Thomas did not notice the spark of magic travel from his hand, up the blade of his sword, and into the helmet of the suit of armour at the contact.

* * *

Thomas was awake at the crack of dawn. After all, the day promised to be a big one, and it wouldn't pay to sleep in on such a morning. He got out of bed, opening the door to his wardrobe. After a moment of thought, the little prince decided upon his green suit, brushing his hair to tame his unruly bedhead. He glanced at the clock. The short hand pointed straight at the seven, its longer counterpart at the twelve. Thomas relaxed a bit at the fact that he had an hour of freedom before he would have to officially start his day.

The boy sat down in his chair, absentmindedly playing with a lock of his platinum-blonde hair as he contemplated his mother's reaction to his completed project. He hoped for high praise, but he supposed it was certainly possible that Mother may simply smile and nod, especially if it was a busy day for her. Thomas frowned at the thought. He really should have checked Mother's schedule the night before, to ensure sufficient time for maximum praise when he presented his finished assignment.

As for the assignment in question… Thomas suddenly gave a start. He looked wildly about the room, but, sure enough, his suit of armour was no where to be seen! The little prince ran possible scenarios through his head in a panic.

_Could it have melted in the night? Certainly not! The room's still freezing, and there's no slush or water anywhere!_ He thought again. _Could someone have taken it? It's the only possibility! If I move fast, perhaps it has yet to melt!_ At that, Thomas bolted from his room.

Christopher was the primary suspect. Annabeth would never have done such a thing, and barely anyone else in the castle knew of his project at all! Thomas ran for his cousin's room at the end of the long hallway. Turning the knob on the door, he found it locked. Thomas banged his fist incessantly on the wood. "Chris! Did you take my suit of armour?" Hearing nothing but snores from the other side, he yelled again. "Wake up, Chris! If you took my armour I swear I'll put you in an ice cube until next month!"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind Thomas. "I don't think that would do much good! The boy is innocent of the crime you so accuse him!" The voice was accompanied by a peculiar clanking, almost… almost akin to the sound of ice on marble!

Thomas whipped around. Before him stood a most incredulous sight: his lost suit of armour presided a mere arm's length away, the icy plates twinkling blue in the morning light. The little prince was taken aback. How had he missed the _entire suit of armour_ on the way to Christopher's room, when its placement had been so obvious? More importantly, how had his suit of armour gotten there in the first place? And who was that voice?…

It was then that the suit of armour in question brought itself down upon one knee before the little prince. "My apologies, I've forgotten to introduce myself! Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted, at your service, Master Thomas."

* * *

_**BOOM. Olaf v2.0! How do you like it guys? REVIEWS PLEASE!**_

_**A shoutout to PipPipCheerio0205 for pointing out my dialog formatting errors! Thank you, good sir!**_


	7. Strange Surprises

_**Disclaimer: To say that I own any bit of Frozen would be a terrible lie.**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Strange Surprises**

Before he had a chance to fully comprehend the situation, Thomas heard the dull squeak of an opening door from behind him.

"Uh, Tom, what's up?" A very drowsy Christopher stumbled out into the hallway in his bedclothes, hands rubbing his tired eyes. "Why'd you wake me? It's not even eight yet!"

Thomas stood frozen to the spot, the power of speech having completely left him. Sir Gingivere, on the other hand, had no such handicaps. Standing and walking to the newcomer, the suit of armour extended a hand in greeting.

"Ah, so you must be the 'Chris' my master was attempting to wake with such ferocity! Rest assured, it was all a rather large misunderstanding. Master Thomas suspected you of having stolen me, you see, and it is now quite obvious that that is not the case!" Sir Gingivere chuckled. "After all, I stand right here!"

Christopher was rubbing his eyes with a great deal more intensity now. "Am… am I dreaming? I must be dreaming!" The boy proceeded to pinch himself on the forearm. "Ow! Drat! This isn't a dream!" Following the revelation, Christopher's eyes turned wide as saucers. "Tom… what did you do?"

Thomas raised his hands in surrender. "I don't know! I never meant for this! And how did my suit of armour _come_ _alive?!_" At this, the little prince remembered the _other_ being who had been brought to life with powers akin to his. "Olaf! We need to get Olaf!" Christopher nodded in understanding, then sprinted down the hall (barefoot, and still in his bedclothes) to find the little snowman.

Sir Gingivere watched the receding form of the boy. "Quite a lively chap, isn't he?"

"That, he certainly is!" Thomas agreed. A droplet of water landed upon the little prince's brow. "Sir Gingivere! I forgot, you're made of ice! Come quick, before you melt!"

The suit of armour followed his master back down the hall, now a great deal more worried than before. "Good gracious, I am liable to melt? A mere walk in the sunlight will reduce me to naught but a puddle! Oh, dear, how fragile my existence is!"

Thomas patted Sir Gingivere reassuringly, the plates of armour re-freezing beneath the little prince's fingers. "Don't worry, my good knight! I am sure we can figure out a solution!" Opening the door to his room, Thomas all but shoved the suit of armour in. "It's cold in here, so you'll keep. Stay put and… don't melt." And with that, the little prince ran down the hall after his cousin.

* * *

Olaf loved the spring season almost as much as summer. The sweet smell of the morning dew, the lengthening days, the rays of the smiling sun, awaking life from its deep winter hibernation; it all made the little snowman's heart fill with joy. Or, rather, the spot in the snowman's snow-chest where a heart was supposed to be.

This particularly lovely morning, Olaf found himself wandering through the castle's southern courtyard, wallowing in the spring atmosphere. Though the gates were perpetually open now, the smaller of the two courtyards was always empty, mostly because it was nearly impossible to access without entering the castle first. The little snowman hummed a tune to himself, bouncing about and spreading a trail of rapidly melting snow behind him from his personal flurry. It was in this state that Christopher found his friend, happy and carefree as always.

"Hey, Olaf!" Christopher greeted, running towards the little snowman. Seeing the boy, Olaf immediately began waving frantically with his twig-arms.

"Hey, Chris!" Bounding up to Christopher, Olaf enveloped the boy in a huge hug. "Good morning! Ooh, you're still in your jammies!" A bit of heat crept up Christopher's cheeks.

"Well, I was kinda in a hurry," the boy explained sheepishly. "Thomas woke me up a while ago, and he had a _living suit of armour_ with him! How crazy is that? And I thought, 'Hey, Olaf would probably know something about stuff like that, being a live snowman and all', so I came to find you!"

Olaf scratched his twig-hair in contemplation. "Would this suit of armour you're talking about happen to be the one Tom was making from ice for the past week?" Christopher nodded vigorously. The little snowman's eyes suddenly alighted with understanding. "Ooh, oh, oh, oh, I know why! Tom must have brought it to life with his powers!"

Christopher frowned in confusion. "Tom can do that?" Olaf did his signature giggle.

"Of course he can, silly! He has the same powers as Elsa, and Elsa built me!" At this, the snowman paused to look down at his arms, opening and closing his twig-hands. "And last I checked, I'm alive!"

After a pause to think, the boy put his palm to his face. "Then I really should be talking to Auntie Elsa, shouldn't I?"

At that moment, the castle doors behind the duo snapped open, emitting Thomas into the courtyard. Seeing Christopher with Olaf, the little prince gave a wave. "Oh, good, you found Olaf! Come with me, quickly!" Thomas started back into the castle. When his older cousin made no move to follow, he shot Christopher a questioning glare. "Well, are you coming, Chris? What's the matter?"

"Yeah… about that. Shouldn't we tell your mother that you somehow brought an entire _suit of armour_ to life with your powers?"

"Elsa will know what to do!" Olaf added. "She has experience with these things! I mean, just look at me!" The snowman waved enthusiastically to his abdomen.

Thomas heaved a dramatic sigh. "I really wanted it to be a surprise though!" Alas, the little prince shook his head in compliance. "But my creation being _alive_ takes things out of my hands. You're right. We must talk to Mother."

"Talk to your mother about what?"

The boys both froze at the sound of Annabeth's voice. The girl revealed herself from the concealing shadows of the pillar she stood under, a smug grin upon her face. Christopher glared at his sister. "Well that's good of you, sneaking about like… like an eavesdropping spy!" Thomas frowned as well.

"How much did you hear of our conversation, spy?" The little prince folded his arms in front of his chest. Annabeth blew a raspberry at her younger cousin.

"I heard enough to know that you brought your suit of ice armour to life! What, was having just a suit of armour not good enough? You _had_ to bring it to life?" It was Annabeth's turn to fold her arms over her chest, her eyebrow raised in question.

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" Thomas groaned inwardly. He had a fair idea of when and how he had brought Sir Gingivere to life, and the thought of admitting that he had spoken to a then inanimate object was too humiliating to consider. "It just happened! I need to ask Mother about what to do with him!"

"Him? So it has a name?"

Thomas groaned out loud this time. Annabeth was even more intrigued now. "Show me! Show me your suit of armour!" she exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly, her strawberry-blonde hair bouncing about in its ponytail. Thomas, sensing an upper hand, smirked at the girl.

"Or what? You certainly haven't gained my love and trust through your actions thus far today. What's to stop me from refusing your request?" The little prince raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"You want to play that way? Fine. If you don't show me, I guess I'll have to tell my dear mum about how you stole her chocolates the other day. You know how protective she is about her chocolate..."

Thomas gritted his teeth in anger at the disgustingly low blow. "_You wouldn't dare_," he growled.

Annabeth grinned smugly. "I guess we'll see then, won't we?"

Christopher and Olaf looked back and forth between the quarrelling cousins, cringing as the tension built in the atmosphere. From experience, Christopher knew how quickly such arguments could escalate. Once, Thomas had frozen the entire dining table, food and all, during a dinner dispute with Annabeth. Look! One could clearly see the frost beginning to emanate from beneath Thomas' feet...

But at last Thomas relented. "Nothing is worth facing Aunt Anna's wrath, especially concerning her chocolate," the little prince concieded with a sigh. "Very well. You win." Turning, Thomas marched briskly to the doors, leaving his cousins (plus a snowman) packing in the dust after him. As they entered the castle, the little prince couldn't help but add a spiteful "This time…", sending forth a sprinkling of frost accompanied by an arctic gust to accentuate the statement. The sound of Annabeth's shivers sent a guilty thrill of victory down Thomas' spine.

* * *

Gerda had served the Arendellian royal family for three generations. Needless to say, the aged maid had seen and experienced a fair share of strangeness in her time. She'd been one of the first to witness Elsa's budding abilities as a child. She had seen Princess Anna's hair turn white as she slowly died of a frozen heart, of all things. She even conversed with a living, breathing snowman on a regular basis! Thus, the maid thought herself all but desensitized to surprise.

Her morning chores were less numerous these days than in days past. With the influx of new staff after the Queen's Open Gate policy, work in the castle was much more evenly spread than during the years of isolation. Gerda now found herself giving orders more often than actually doing work. Nonetheless, some duties were given to only the most trusted members of staff.

Like on most mornings, Gerda had the job of waking the royal children and "helping" them make their beds and organize their wardrobes (though the maid usually ended up having to do all the work). This day, she was in charge of Thomas. As the clock struck eight, Gerda stood before the little prince's bedroom door, giving a quiet little knock. This was the usual tactic. The maid would continue to knock with increasing volume and intensity until the knocks elicited a response. This time around, however, things took a turn for the bizarre.

"Hello? Who's out there? If you are looking for Master Thomas, he is currently absent."

Gerda frowned. Though the voice didn't sound like the little prince, the maid knew how mischievous the boy could be.

"Thomas, you can't fool me. I know it's you! Open up, please!"

The same unfamiliar voice sounded from behind the door. "Master Thomas truly is absent! But, since you insist, I suppose I should let you in to see for yourself."

The door opened, the cold air within washing over Gerda. The maid stormed into the room, her searching eyes scouring the six walls for Thomas. Where was that cheeky little troublemaker? The maid's eyes settled on the icy suit of armour to her left. She couldn't help but gasp a little in admiration. Such fine craftsmanship! But where was the boy?

"Do you believe me now? He isn't here!"

What was that voice? It seemed to be coming from her left… The suit of armour! Gerda laughed haughtily in triumph.

It was then that the suit of armour in question tilted its head quizzically. "Why do you regard me so shrewdly? Surely you do not believe that Master Thomas is _inside_ me!"

The maid's laughter turned to a choked gurgle in her throat. Had that suit of armour just… spoken? Moved on its own accord?

"If you are set on staying, could you please shut the door? You're letting the heat in, and I've been told I am liable to melt!"

Good God! Before she knew what was happening, Gerda found herself in the arms of the suit of armour, her body caught halfway on its descent to the marble floor.

"Are you quite alright, madam? You seem a bit faint!"

The maid (who truly was feeling quite faint at the moment) leapt from the arms of ice with a spryness that did not match her years. In the blink of an eye, Gerda was cannoning down the hall, screaming "Queen Elsa!" at the top of her lungs, leaving a very confused suit of armour in her wake.

* * *

The infamous quartet had just ascended the grand staircase onto the second floor when a piercing scream echoed through the castle.

"_Queen Elsa!_"

Thomas froze in his tracks, Olaf nearly upsetting the boy by bumping his now stationary back. Annabeth frowned.

"That sounded an awful lot like Gerda! What could she possibly need to disturb Auntie Elsa for this early in the morning?"

But the pieces had already clicked into place in Thomas' head. Before anyone else had the chance to even contemplate the question, the little prince was already setting out in a flat-out sprint for his bedroom, hints of frost trailing in his wake. The other three raced to follow.

"Tom, slow down!" Christopher shouted after his cousin. "What's going on?" But the little prince offered no reply, excepting another burst of speed.

When he reached the hallway that contained his bedroom, Thomas found his door thrown open. Skidding to a panting halt in front of it, he found Sir Gingivere standing with his arms out in front of him. Thomas folded his arms in front of his chest.

"OK, what did you do?"

"That's the problem! I haven't a clue! It seems that my voice is so grievous that the maid ran from me screaming the instant she heard it!"

"The maid?" Thomas slapped his palm to his face. "Gerda! How could I have forgotten? She didn't know I'd woken up, so she came to wake me like every other morning. Except this time, instead of me, she found you!"

By then, the other three members of the infamous quartet had finally caught up to Thomas. Annabeth gave a gasp as she beheld Sir Gingivere.

"Wow! He's magnificent! As much as I hate to admit it, you've got some craftsmanship yet, Tom!"

Taken aback by the compliment, the little prince gave an impish grin. Sir Gingivere gave a modest bow from behind Thomas. "If only that maid had been so kind." The suit of armour shook his head. "She ran from me like I was the plague!"

"Yeah, weird huh? People used to do that to me all the time, too! I even scared someone off the pier once!" Olaf bounced into view from behind Christopher. Sir Gingivere backed up a few paces, hands held as if in defense.

"What in the name of chivalry is that!"

Olaf spread his arms wide and gave a single-toothed grin. "Hi! I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

"He's a live snowman," Christopher explained simply. "Auntie Elsa, Tom's mom, gave life to him like Tom did for you!"

At that, the suit of armour walked slowly over to Olaf, scrutinizing the little snowman. Olaf looked up at Sir Gingivere, scrunching his brow in question. "How do you talk if you have no face?" The suit of armour froze on the spot. Though he indeed did not have a face to express with, the children could feel Sir Gingivere's wounded pride nonetheless.

"And how, pray tell, would a man of snow give warm hugs?" Sir Gingivere retorted. Olaf drew himself up with dignity.

"I may be a snowman, but Anna says I give the warmest hugs ever!"

"And what of that peculiar cloud above your head?"

"It's so I don't melt!"

Sir Gingivere was a great deal more interested now. "Really? Is there a possibility that I could get one?" The suit of armour looked to his creator. Thomas shifted sheepishly.

"Uh, well, weather is difficult. I have no idea how Mother keeps the flurry above Olaf's head in place. Whenever I create weather, it dissipates as soon as I lose focus! Sorry, Sir Gingivere…"

Suddenly, the temperature dropped. All heads turned to Thomas. The little prince shrugged. "Wasn't me!"

"Children! What is going on here?" The Queen strode into view, her sister in tow. Annabeth and Christopher flinched, and Thomas slowly turned to face his mother. Elsa's icy gaze scoured the group, finally settling upon Sir Gingivere. "Thomas, did you bring your suit of armour to life?"

"Y-yes, Mother?" The statement was spoken like a question.

Elsa massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "And why would you do such a thing?"

"I… I don't know how it happened, or even how I did it! It just happened!" Thomas cringed, expecting a great deal of chastisement. The little prince was very surprised to hear the sound of his aunt's laughter instead.

"Oh, Elsa, looks like Tom's your son after all!"

Elsa turned her gaze to her sister. "What?"

"C'mon! Olaf was an accident, too! And you have to admit, even Marshmallow wasn't completely thought through!" Anna gave a little giggle. Elsa just stared.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Would this be a terrible time to tell that I officially knighted him Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted?"

That was the final straw. A burst of laughter escaped the Queen's lips. "You _knighted_ an inanimate suit of armour? Thomas, I thought I taught you better than that! Oh, you truly are more like your aunt than you know!" Anna slapped her sister playfully on the arm.

Everyone's attention was redirected once more as Sir Gingivere stepped forward. "My apologies for interrupting, but I do not believe we've been introduced."

Olaf jumped at the chance. "Ooh! OK! Elsa, meet Sir Gingivere." Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Sir Gingivere, meet Elsa! Oh, and I almost forgot! Elsa is the Queen of Arendelle." With astonishing speed, the knight knelt at Elsa's feet.

"Your Majesty! My sincerest of apologies. I was not aware of being in the presence of a Queen."

The Queen gave a small smile of amusement. "Well, at least he is a gentleman! Rise, Sir Gingivere. All is forgiven." The knight stood with military efficiency. Anna laughed.

"He's certainly got better manners than Marshmallow!"

"Your Majesty, if I may, would it be possible for you to establish something alike to Olaf's flurry for me? I am terribly afraid of my imminent demise through melting!" Sir Gingivere held his hands in a pleading gesture. Thomas looked up at his mother with imploring eyes. Elsa sighed.

"Well, I suppose we are stuck with you now." Closing the distance between her and the knight, the Snow Queen placed her palm on Sir Gingivere's breastplate. The knight shuddered as a glowing snowflake pattern emanated from Elsa's hand and into his chest. There was the soft sound of freezing ice. "There. Now you will keep." Elsa smiled at her son. "One mobile flurry spreading snow all over the castle is quite enough."

Anna clapped her hands happily. "Sir Gingivere, I pronounce you a member of our family!"

"Our very strange family including, but not limited to, a living snowman, a reindeer, and now a suit of armour with knightly title," Christopher added wryly. Sir Gingivere bowed his head.

"I am honoured."

* * *

_**As always, REVIEWS PLEASE! Praise is quite fulfilling, but criticism is the elixir of betterment, bitter though it may be.**_


	8. A Knight Amidst the Snow

_**Disclaimer: The fantabulous man by whom this story was written owns not the rights to Frozen.**_

* * *

**Chapter 8: A Knight Amidst the Snow**

Sir Gingivere's actual integration into the royal family was not an easy one. As had Olaf before him, the living suit of armour endured many screams and swoons from the castle staff. Indeed, even the King himself had almost fallen from his chair when introduced to his newest subject. However, Henrik quickly took a liking to the knight, in no small part because of Sir Gingivere's flawless decorum and etiquette.

"How my own son, who casts etiquette out the window at every opportunity, is the creator of such a gentleman, I'll never know," Henrik said to his wife, shaking his head in wonder.

"How a then traumatized and depressed Queen in exile created a creature of joy and love, I will never know either," Elsa replied, smiling. "Magic works in ways we will never understand."

Unlike Olaf, however, Sir Gingivere was very aware of others' reactions to his existence. The knight took to standing sentinel by his master's door, avoiding contact with people unless accompanied by Thomas. The little prince tried to reassure his friend best as he could.

"Don't worry, people will warm up to you eventually! It's like with Olaf; people just need time to get used to seeing you!"

"I don't know how that snowman endured it! Watching people run screaming simply from your presence… It really lowers one's self esteem," had been the knight's disgruntled response.

There was one particular entity that Sir Gingivere found extremely intriguing, however: Marshmallow. The fabled third snow-creature, the one that presided at the soaring peak of the North Mountain, guarding the Snow Queen's Kingdom of Isolation from desecration. Sir Gingivere often contemplated long and hard about Marshmallow's personality. Surely the creature wasn't as utterly carefree and care_less_ as Olaf; it was a guardian, after all. Perhaps the third snow-creature would be more like he, Sir Gingivere. A possible companion in a sea of the fearful.

It took Thomas quite a while before he managed to get that particular aspiration from the knight, and the knight in question having no facial expressions to speak of made the task all the more challenging. When he finally did grill the truth from Sir Gingivere, mirth gushed forth from the little prince.

"You want… companionship… from _Marshmallow_?" Thomas managed to ask, gaffaws wracking his body. "Oh… you really need… to see the guy… for yourself!"

Sir Gingivere held his head up with as much dignity as the situation allowed. "Perhaps I will!" The knight had then reverted to a statue, probably thankful for his lack of reddening cheeks. However, Thomas' reaction to the knight's confession only peaked Sir Gingivere's interest in meeting the third snow-creature. The chance to do so would come quicker than the knight expected.

* * *

The soft haze of spring slowly sharpened into focus. Colours grew more vibrant; the blue of the fjord seemed crisper, the green of vegetation deeper, and flowers opened up to the brightening sun. The days grew long, and the temperature rose. Summer had come.

Every year, on the summer solstice, the Queen would take her family up the North Mountain to her Kingdom of Isolation for a vacation, of sorts. For Elsa, it was a reminder of the beauty in her abilities, as well as a chance to taste freedom once more. For the rest of the family, it was a reprieve from the summer heat. Thomas especially loved the annual trips, even though the summer heat did not affect him; the ice palace was a magnificent spectacle of the power the little prince shared with his mother.

The day finally came. Kristoff had packed a carriage with the necessary supplies, and the royal steeds were saddled and ready for the excursion. Though the sun shone with hot intensity, the family was dressed in winter furs and mittens, excepting the Snow Queen and her son, who were still dressed in casual summer attire. Anna, being Anna, was already extremely impatient for departure.

"Alright! We're all packed! Let's go already!"

Elsa looked over her assembled family. "Is everyone accounted for?"

"Yes, I do believe you are ready to depart, Your Majesty," Kai replied.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Anna attempted to mount her horse, unbalanced, and toppled off the opposite flank. The animal gave a whinny that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Kristoff's head dropped into his hands.

Thomas turned to his icy companion beside him. "Uh, I probably should have asked this earlier, but, do you know how to ride?"

Sir Gingivere tilted his head in what was probably an indignant glare. "Well, excuse me, I'm a knight! Tell me, have you ever met a knight that couldn't ride a horse? We aren't called "mounted warriors" for nothing, Master Thomas!"

The little prince held his hands up placatingly. "Well, I haven't met many knights, but I'll take your word for it. I just thought that since _I_ can't ride very well, and I am your creator, you might not be able to ride so well either."

As a reply, the knight deftly leapt upon his horse, grabbing the reins with expertise. "Are you convinced of my ability now?"

Thomas entered Sven's carriage with the rest of the children, shaking his head all the while. "Magic makes no sense sometimes…"

Anna finally managed to get upright on her saddle. Kristoff mounted Sven, Olaf already seated on the reindeer's rump. The carriage door closed, children safely within. At the front of the entourage, the Queen and King sat regally upon their steeds. The family was ready.

"Farewell, Majesties! We wish you the best of fun!"

And with that, the sharp rap of hooves on pavement receded into the distance.

* * *

Up the mountain the family rode, forest flying by on the wayside. The temperature grew steadily colder, the air thinning as the royals continued to climb. Past the last of the trees, the first hints of snow began to appear, glistening defiantly at the blazing summer sun. This was a place where winter never released its hold. They had entered the true realm of the Snow Queen.

Inside the carriage, the children bantered on.

"So, what's Sir Gingivere so excited about?" Christopher asked Thomas.

"Oh, come on Chris! Everyone is always excited to see Auntie Elsa's fabled ice palace for the first time!" Annabeth retorted. Thomas gave an amused little chuckle.

"Now, that's what you would think, wouldn't you? No, Sir Gingivere only wants to meet Marshmallow!"

Christopher's eyes were wide with disbelief. "No way! No one _ever_ wants to meet Marshmallow! He's the only reason why there aren't crowds of gawkers at the ice palace all the time. The guy's scary as anything!" The boy shivered.

"Aw, Marshmallow's not like that to everyone. Just to people who somehow manage to _knock down the chandelier_ on their way through the palace!" Annabeth gave her brother a pointed look.

"Hey, Auntie Elsa fixed it quick anyway! And plus, that was mostly Olaf's fault. How come he doesn't get any blame?"

"That's because he's a lovable bundle of joy," Thomas smirked at Christopher. "And you're not. But, hey, there has to be _someone_ to take the punishments."

Christopher remained in sullen silence.

Suddenly, the carriage slowed to a halt. The entourage had reached the ravine. It was here that, almost two decades before, Kristoff had lost his first sled to the depths while helping his future wife on her quest to restore summer. This time, however, Elsa was not up at her icy palace; this time, she was right by her sister's side. The children all got out of the carriage to watch the coming spectacle, their faces eager in anticipation. At the edge of the cliff, the Snow Queen raised her arms to the sky.

First, there was but a light dusting of snow. Streaks of icy magic shot across the ravine, twisting and spiraling through the air. Slowly, a breathtaking bridge of clear, dense ice grew across the yawning abyss, sparkling blue in the sunlight. Kristoff whistled.

"Absolutely stunning. Your magic is amazing, Elsa! Even after all these years, I still feel like I haven't said that enough."

Elsa gave the mountain man a heartfelt smile. "Thank you, Kristoff!"

"Well, just as soon as we're done admiring it, maybe we could actually cross the bridge?" Anna huffed impatiently. "This isn't even the main attraction yet!"

Kristoff laughed. "Alright, alright! Lead on, feistypants!"

Thus, the family continued its journey to the icy summit.

* * *

Olaf was getting considerably more excited as the journey progressed. "Ooh! Look! That's where Elsa built me! Ooh! And that's where I got thrown off the mountain by Marshmallow! And that's where I got impaled..."

"It seems that you've had some exciting adventures, Olaf," remarked Henrik with an amused smile.

"Yup! Ooh, and there's where Anna tried to climb a cliff face for the first time!"

Indeed, the entourage had finally reached the sheer face of rock that marked the boundary of the Kingdom of Isolation. Though it would seem an insurmountable obstacle to the inexperienced eye, there was a hidden crevasse in the rock that provided a path through it, as Olaf had so observed out all those years ago. Stepping from her horse, Elsa turned to face her family.

"We'll go on foot from here. The horses and Sven won't be able to climb the staircase." The Queen smiled apologetically. "I never originally meant for visitors, you understand." Dismounting, Henrik gave his wife a reassuring pat.

"The palace would be much less grand without your beautiful staircase, love."

"That I can second!" Kristoff agreed, opening the door to the carriage behind Sven.

Elsa looked to her son, who was stepping out with the other children. "Thomas, would you like to do the honours?" Thomas frowned in confusion.

"_She means making an ice-pole thing to tie the horses to_," Anna whispered helpfully.

"Oh!" Focussing on the ground before him, the little prince's brow crinkled in concentration. A wide crystal of ice sprouted up, slowly growing in height. "There!" The little prince gave the pole shaped formation a few hard pats. "It should be strong enough."

Beside him, Sir Gingivere applauded Thomas' work. "Splendid! Though, I never doubted your ability. You created _me,_ after all!" The knight proceeded to tether his horse to the icy pole. The rest of the family followed suit, all save Kristoff.

"You can behave yourself while we're gone, can't you Sven?"

"_Of course!_" Kristoff spoke for Sven.

"Aah, that's a good boy!" Kristoff scratched the reindeer under the chin.

The King shook his head at the mountain man's Sven impersonation, while Elsa gave a little laugh of amusement. Anna grew a bit crimson around the edges. Kristoff, as if suddenly aware of the situation, straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Alright! Onwards to the palace!" The mountain man walked to the crevasse in the rock, the rest of the family following close behind.

"Bye, Sven!" Olaf called good-naturedly, as the royal steeds were blocked from sight by the encroaching stone walls.

From ahead, cold light shone at the end of the passage. Walking single file, the royals stepped out from the crevasse on to the other side. The peak of the North Mountain glittered sparkling white, snow covering the landscape in a thick blanket, even during the height of summer. They had entered the Kingdom of Isolation.

A collective gasp rose from the group. For before them lay a sight to behold; the pinnacle of magnificence, shining like a beacon of freedom. The Ice Palace. Its shape seemed to melt into the sky, rising like a brilliant spike into the heavens above. Its crystalline facets refracted the light of the sun, casting the entire structure in an ethereal glow, reminiscent of the purest diamond. The staircase leading up to the palace was no less beautiful, its elegant curvature seeming to defy gravity as it gracefully soared over the canyon and into the narrow double doors of the palace entrance.

Everyone simply stood for a moment, eyes wide with admiration, basking in the utter splendor and majesty of the sight. Sir Gingivere wiped at imaginary tears.

"And to think I thought I knew beauty before this day. I shall never deem anything beautiful again, for nothing can ever compare with the sight before me now! Words fall utterly short of describing the sheer splendor and glory of your palace, Your Majesty!" The knight fell before the Queen, head bowed.

Elsa was completely taken aback by such unabashed praise. She held her hand to her heart, at a loss for words. Beside her, the King chuckled.

"My fondness of you only grows with the passing of time, good sir! Rise."

The atmosphere was shattered by a sudden sound similar to an avalanche. The members of the family drew together as the enormous, before unnoticed, mound of snow beside the staircase came violently and abruptly to life. Massive shoulders erupted from the ground, and upon them, the fearsome head of the beast glared down at the assembled royals. Opening its mouth, a voice like the thunder of a moving glacier blasted forth.

"_**WHO GOES THERE?!**_"

Olaf gave an energetic wave. "Hi, Marshmallow! How are things? You know, it seems only yesterday that you were chasing me and Anna and Kristoff down the mountain! Oh, the fun we had together!" The snowman giggled. Marshmallow stared at the snowman for a moment, then gave a dismissive huff in his direction.

Elsa separated from the group, slowly walking toward the snow beast. "Marshmallow, you remember us. We've come to visit again." The Snow Queen placed a calming hand upon Marshmallow's right knee, the thin line of Hans' amputation still visible even after numerous repairs. Elsa smiled up at her creation. "How's the leg?"

"**Better… now,**" Marshmallow intoned. An expression of anger came over the golem's face. "**Bad soldiers.**"

The Queen's smile turned dark at the memory.

Further back, Thomas moved to Sir Gingivere's side. "_That_ is Marshmallow." The little prince pointed to the towering beast. "How do you like him? Is he companion material?"

The knight gave a weak shrug. "I must admit, I never imagined him to look like _that_. He's so… enormous!"

At the sound of Sir Gingivere's voice, Marshmallow suddenly turned to face the group again, searching eyes finally settling on the knight of ice. "**Who is… ice man?**" the golem growled. "**Never seen before.**"

Many respectable men would have cowered under the snow beast's gaze, but Sir Gingivere was "the Lionhearted" in more than just title. Walking to Marshmallow, the knight initiated a deep, formal bow. "Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted, pleased to meet your acquaintance! I must say, I've heard a great deal about you, Marshmallow, Guardian of Isolation."

The golem glowered down at the knight. "**You are living ice. Elsa make you?**"

"Her Majesty's son, actually. Master Thomas, over there." Sir Gingivere gestured toward the little prince, who gave a nervous little wave.

Marshmallow looked to Elsa, who nodded. "Thomas made him and brought him to life by accident. A bit like what I did with Olaf, in fact!"

Satisfied, Marshmallow gave a solemn nod. "**Elsa likes you. I let you pass.**"

"Come on guys, what are we waiting for?" The family turned to see the Snow Queen ascending the staircase, gesturing for them to follow. But again, the royals could only watch, awestruck.

Elsa was almost dancing up the icy steps, wisps of snow and wintry magic spiraling around her, glowing snowflake patterns flashing the staccato rhythm of her footfalls. Her tinkling laughter filled the still mountain air, a sound of boundless joy. Up here, Elsa could cast aside the weight of the crown, her Queenly duties and responsibilities, if only for a day. Up here, she could let it go once more. Elsa was free. And it was a glorious sight.

Anna was the first to recover. With a whoop, the woman ran up the stairs to meet her sister, laughing all the while. Henrik was next, and though he walked up the steps in a regal manner, there was nothing that could dim the brightness of the grin upon the King's face. The children came next, Annabeth happy and carefree, Olaf buoyant as ever, Thomas beaming as he walked in step with Sir Gingivere, and Christopher keeping a wary distance from the golem who still stood sentinel to the side. Marshmallow had his eyes locked on to the boy.

"**Break nothing,**" was the low, menacing growl, accompanied by the not-so-subtle clicking of the golem's icy fingers forming fists. Christopher gave a nervous nod, and ran up the stairs as if Marshmallow was chasing him the whole way. Kristoff brought up the rear, admiring the ice of the railing with appraising eyes. He whistled.

"Flawless…"

* * *

With resonating sound, the towering double doors to the palace slowly opened. The family filed inside, taking care not to slip on the icy floor. The interior was lit was a soft blue light, filtering in from the domed ceiling high above. Since its original construction, Elsa had added new features to the palace with every consecutive visit. The ground floor was now decorated with an assortment of furniture and ice statues, and even two (inanimate) suits of ice armour flanking the doors. Sir Gingivere found these particularly amusing.

Up the many flights of icy stairs the family walked. Through a set of translucent doors, they turned to the left and up another winding staircase. The second set of doors before them opened as if on their own accord, revealing the room beyond. The room behind the balcony. The very place where fear and doubt once reigned, the very place where one young woman's heart was speared her sister's icy magic. Who knew that such a place would one day become a place of love and happiness? Elsa turned to Anna mid-stride, eyes alight with the joy of the moment. Anna returned with a wholehearted grin. There were no words said, no words that _needed_ to be said; the sisters' feelings were mutual. The storm had long abated. The past was in the past.

The balcony room had seen many renovations since that fateful confrontation with the "bad soldiers". The chandelier had been rebuilt, albeit with many more supports than before. The foreboding spikes that had once dominated every corner of the room had been removed, along with all hints of darkness from the walls and floor. Golden light filtered through from the closed balcony doors, and the ice all around seemed welcoming, even warm, in the soft radiance.

The family walked slowly through the room, basking in the blissful atmosphere. Finally, they came to the balcony doors. With a clear ringing, the final set of doors opened, revealing the picturesque landscape beyond. All of Arendelle lay before their eyes, tinted luminescent gold in the noonday sun. The royals could see Arendelle Castle nestled in the crook of the mountains, the sapphire fjord a protective hand cupping the land in its slender fingers. They could hear the boisterous, faraway sounds of village life, carried upon the gentle summer winds. The peace was almost palpable.

The light of the sun lit the smiling faces of the family, glistening on Olaf's snowy mantle, glinting upon Sir Gingivere's icy plates, casting those around the knight in a glimmering spectrum. Almost as one, the royals joined hands. Here was a moment of union. A moment of utterly free of doubt and despair. A moment to be remembered forever after.


	9. Darkness Past

_**[SPOILER ALERT]: If you've yet to watch Frozen, this chapter will completely and utterly spoil the plot.**_

_**Disclaimer: Disney holds ownership over Frozen.**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Darkness Past**

With further revolutions of the seasons, Thomas began to change in more ways than one. Aside from the expected physical developments that accompanied puberty, the young prince experienced a sudden and unexpected surge in his elemental powers. What would previously only have yielded a light dusting of snow now turned the entire room in which the boy happened to reside into a winter landscape. Anxiety and frustration would cover everything in frost; anger resulted in arctic blizzards. Coupled with the probable mood swings Thomas would experience as a teenager, his power became a loose cannon, as it hadn't been since age five.

Indeed, it had been at this age that Elsa's powers had truly become uncontrollable. It had been then when she dared not to even touch anyone anymore. It had been then that her life of isolation had truly begun. Alas, the Queen understood all too well her son's torment. Thus, she redoubled her efforts in teaching Thomas control. Lessons commenced in the young prince's room with a new urgency.

* * *

"The key to control is the complete _opposite_ of what my father had taught me," Elsa explained. "My father had always said, 'conceal, don't feel'. The problem is, you can't keep your emotions locked inside forever. They will keep multiplying, keep piling up, until the pressure will be too great for you to hold back. In order to gain control, you must _feel_. Focus on your emotions. Become familiar with them. Learn to rationalize. Never let your emotions dictate your actions."

The Queen closed her eyes, a wave of unbidden memories coming to life behind the lids. She exhaled shakily. "When emotions take free reign, _that_ is when your power becomes a danger. That is when the worst can happen. As it did for me…" At this, a single tear rolled down Elsa's cheek. Frost began to crawl across the marble flooring at the Queen's feet. Thomas rushed forward, his face etched with concern.

"Mother! What's wrong?"

Elsa took a calming breath, the icy patterns beneath her slowly dissipating. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, but steady. "Thomas, I think it is time I told you a story." The Queen guided her son to the table at the centre of his room, the polished wooden surface dancing in the flickering light of the fire beyond. Taking a seat in one of the upholstered chairs, Elsa gestured for her son to do the same.

"Do you remember the stories I told you when you were little? Of Anna and I as children, of how I hurt my sister with my powers?" Thomas nodded slowly. Elsa clasped her hands on the table, leaning forward to begin her tale. "This story happens twelve years after that fateful night.

"After my parents were lost at sea, it was only a matter of time until I had to take the throne. However, control over my powers was still as unreachable as ever, even more so due to my grief at the time. I dared not to even leave my room to attend my parents' funeral.

"As for my preparedness to be Queen, well, I knew it all in theory, but I'd never spoken to a single person outside the castle walls in over thirteen years. To say I was out of practice in human affairs would have been the understatement of the century. So, I planned my coronation with only one thing in mind: minimal contact with others. Instead of the usual month-long festivities, I cut it down to one day. I would have time to meet with foreign dignitaries, but I made sure that there wouldn't be enough for anyone to do much more than exchange greetings. The only time that I would be expected to speak with the public would be during my speeches. Those I practiced until I muttered them in my sleep."

Elsa chuckled mirthlessly. "There was one loose end, however: Anna. Your aunt was never quite similar to me, but back then we'd practically been polar opposites. While I lived in isolation, she dreamt of the freedom of the outside world. Of _human company_. She'd even taken to speaking to the paintings in the halls for lack of better companionship.

"There was one thing that Anna longed for far more than anything else, though. For me to open my door to her. When I had hit Anna's head with my magic, Grand Pabbie had been forced to remove all her memories of my powers in order to bring her back to health. My sister knew nothing of the true reason to my isolation, of why I quite literally shut her out of my life. My door came to represent the rift in our friendship. A friendship Anna would have given anything to restore."

The firelight reflected off the glistening tears that began to well up in the Queen's eyes. "But letting my sister in had been unthinkable. I had to protect her from my powers. From _me_." Elsa sighed, a long, depressing sound.

"Time ticked on. Coronation day came. To my endless frustration, I was unable to hold the symbolic orb and sceptre without my anxiety covering the objects in frost within seconds. I tried to convince the church staff to let me wear gloves during the ceremony. Bishop Gregory had been a kindly man, one of the few who knew of my unique abilities at the time, but he was quite set on tradition. No amount of pleading could persuade him to let me keep my gloves on during the coronation.

"The actual ceremony came all too soon. It was all a blur from my position on the pedestal, the sound of the choir singing in one ear, the whispers of the crowd registering in the other. When the bishop unveiled the orb and sceptre, I was in a daze. Gregory had to remind me to remove my gloves. The next few seconds felt like hours. At an achingly slow pace, the bishop spoke the symbolic words that would dub me Queen of Arendelle. All I could focus on was the layer of frost forming beneath my hands. Before Gregory had even fully finished, I'd all but thrown the orb and sceptre back onto their cushion. Oh, the relief I had felt! I'd thought the worst had passed.

"At the start of the evening ball, Kai formally introduced Anna and I to the partygoers. It turned out, Anna was quite awkward when put on the spot like that. Feeling, of all things, pity toward my little sister, I gave her a smile and said hello. Anna had seemed shocked that I had been the one to start the conversation. Nonetheless, up at the front of the ballroom, we exchanged some of our first real words to each other in… forever. Then, the Duke of Weselton came asking for a dance, and to save face and dignity, I handed Anna off to the man in my stead."

This time, the chuckle was quite genuine. "The man had some of the strangest dancing styles I have ever witnessed. Like a chicken with the face of a monkey!"

Thomas was a little confused now. "But Mother, didn't you say the Duke of Weselton was a bad man?"

His mother's face grew dark once more. "First impressions aren't always accurate, Thomas. On more counts than one."

"So Anna returned from her dance. She was obviously elated to finally have made progress on my barriers of isolation, after all those years trying in vain. I found myself sucked into conversation with my buoyant little sister. But, when Anna voiced her longing for me to keep the gates open, I caught myself. I could not give Anna false hope. I put it upon myself to shut her out again, though the act carved deep into my soul. For the rest of the night, I bantered idly with dignitaries, sunken deep in despair. My night was already ruined. Alas, it got worse from there.

"To my surprise, my sister soon returned to me. Strangely, she seemed happier, and definitely more flushed than before. Only, this time she was dragging a man along behind her. A very handsome man, who kept smiling at Anna as she looked back to him. She introduced him as Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. Though the man seemed mannered enough, something bothered me about the way he held my sister's hand. What happened next made everything frighteningly clear. Anna asked me to bless her marriage with Hans."

Thomas was incredulous. "What! To a man she just met?"

Elsa nodded, a sad light in her eyes. "Yes. Such had been her desperate need for love! However, at that time, I reacted as you did. Remember what I said about emotions building up? At that moment, the combination of guilt, despair, and anger was simply too much. I gave Anna a flat, outright 'no', blatantly stating how she could not marry a man she'd just met, and how she knew nothing of true love. I callously brushed aside Prince Hans' attempts at diplomacy, ordering the guards to end the party, to close the gates once more. I was done. It was time to resume my isolation before I did something I regretted. But it was already too late.

"Anna would no longer be put off so easily. After finally making a chink in my walls, she wasn't about to let me close myself off again. Shouting my name, she made a grab for my hand, missed, and took off my glove instead. At that moment, Anna had unwittingly made my greatest fear a reality. I was in a room full of people, all of whom were now staring at us. Staring at me. The slightest slip, and I would be revealed for the monster I was. And my only restraint had just been removed.

"To say I was panicked didn't do the emotion justice. I was on the verge of exploding. As calmly as I could manage, which wasn't very calm at all, I commanded Anna to return my glove. She refused, tears in her eyes, saying how she couldn't live like this anymore. And this is why you must strive for _rational thought_, Thomas. If you let your emotions make your decisions, things can get out of hand very quickly. As they did for me.

"In a moment of blindness, I told Anna if she couldn't live as I did, then she should leave. I turned my back to my sister, trying to leave the ballroom before the situation escalated out of control. But, as you probably know, your aunt has quite the fiery temper herself. It takes a lot to get her going, but once she does, she is a force to be reckoned with."

The Queen shook her head wryly. "I was so blinded by my own fears, I had failed to acknowledge the pain I was putting my little sister through. But Anna could take it no longer. Instead of backing off like I wanted her to, she chased me across the ballroom, her rage and frustration finally getting the best of her. Under the unwavering stares of the rest of the partygoers, Anna vehemently spat the questions that had plagued her for so long. Why did I shut her out? Why did I shut the world out? What was I so _afraid of? _The words cut into me like the wickedest of daggers, piercing straight into my heart."

Elsa laughed darkly. "But, alas, my sister was not the only one to be driven over the edge that night. There was simply too much raw _feeling_ to conceal any longer. This time, I did explode. But in a way Anna never thought possible. I whirled to face my sister, shouting 'I said ENOUGH!', flicking my hand aggressively toward her. Too late, I realized I had used the wrong hand. The arc of icy spears that suddenly leapt from the polished floor, pointing out at the gathered audience, at _Anna_, was testament to that fact.

"Everyone was too shocked to move. Prince Hans was staring at me with an expression of disbelief. The Duke of Weselton shrank behind his bodyguards in fear. Before anyone could recover, I had fled from the ballroom, running out into the courtyard. I was not prepared for the mass of people that awaited me there. The villagers swarmed me, oblivious to the happenings in the ballroom, vying for a glimpse of the new Queen of Arendelle. I was but a cornered animal by that point, and I acted as such. My powers were absolutely out of control in my panic. I backed into one of the fountains, freezing the water in midair. At least the crowd gave me a clear path for escape after that. By then, the partygoers had caught up to me, bursting out of the castle doors."

Elsa sighed. "Grand Pabbie had said fear would be my enemy. At that moment, fear was all I knew. So I ran. Across the fjord, the water freezing beneath my feet. Into the forest, up the mountain slopes. To be honest, I had no idea where I was going. I found myself almost to the peak of the North Mountain, slowly coming to my senses after my panicked flight, with nothing all around but the swirling snow."

At this, a different light filled the Queen's eyes. "You would be surprised to find the revelations you can make while so utterly alone. Up there, amidst the winter elements, I felt… at home. _Liberated_. There, there was no one to judge me, no one I could possibly hurt. For once, I was truly free. And so I let it go. I cast off my other glove, letting my powers reign free. I did what I had wanted so much to do every time Anna knocked at my door. I built a snowman.

"Further ahead, a ravine lay in my path. It did nothing to stop me. I simply stepped off, and a staircase formed beneath my feet at my will! On the other side, I raised a palace of ice from the ground, the images in my mind flowing into reality with a thought! The freedom of finally being able to use my powers without restraint, without fear… it was wonderful beyond compare. It was a new beginning for me. The past was in the past. Or so I thought.

"Even as the sun began to set on the second day after my coronation, I heard three knocks on my palace's doors. The hinges, being made of ice, swung open by themselves. A voice echoed off the walls, a voice I had thought I would never hear again. The voice of my sister, calling my name."

"You must have been delighted to see her!" Thomas piped up.

His mother smiled. "Despite everything, yes. Ironically, the first worry that surfaced in my mind was how Anna would react to my new clothes. I had made myself a new dress out of ice, you see. One that was… less than modest."

The young prince made a face. "Mother!"

The Queen chuckled. "Alright, alright! So, Anna was set on bringing me back to Arendelle. Before I could continue the conversation, however, a _live snowman_ practically bounced into the palace."

"Olaf!" Thomas exclaimed. Elsa smiled.

"Indeed it was! I had not known I even _had_ the power to bring my creations to life, so seeing the little guy walking about was quite the shock. Anna seemed to love the snowman already, pointing out how similar Olaf was to one we had built as kids. We had been so close back then. How she wanted for it to be like that again!"

Thomas frowned. "But Mother, wasn't that also the night that you… hurt Aunt Anna?"

"Your aunt did not remember. Grand Pabbie's magic had removed those memories, you see. But I remembered that night all too well. So instead of convincing me to open up to her again, Anna's comparison had the opposite effect. I had to protect my dear sister, the only way I knew how. Through isolation. The frustration began to build again. Why didn't Anna understand? Up there in my Kingdom of Isolation, I could be what I was, without hurting anybody! I was alone, but I was _free_!

"But Anna was very persistent. She chased me through the palace, and finally caught up with me in the room behind the balcony. I tried to convince her to return to Arendelle without me. She was the Queen now! She could do what she wanted! Return and enjoy the sun! Open up the gates! If only she would stay away, she would be safe from my powers. From me! Again, or so I thought.

"That's when Anna broke the news to me. The people _weren't_ safe from me. Arendelle was in deep snow. In July. I had unleashed eternal winter upon my kingdom. My shock turned to panic once more. My sister made it sound so easy. 'Just unfreeze it!' she said! In truth, I hadn't the slightest clue as to how to do that. A life of trying in vain to avoid my powers, and I knew next to nothing about controlling them. The thought of my entire kingdom suffering in the bitter cold of winter, _my_ winter, reignited my fear and despair."

Elsa moved to stroke her son's hand. "Control? I had none of it. My emotions took over again, making my powers spiral out of control. Snow began to fall, the wind increasing to an arctic gale. My sister stood her ground, still trying to calm my panic, to convince me that we could fix this, together! But the storm inside was too strong. I tried to warn her, to tell her how dangerous I had become in my fear. But even the howling blizzard that threatened to blow my sister away could not sway her in spirit.

"The emotional storm within had grown to rival my blizzard in intensity. How could Anna have such faith in me? Could she not see I had no control over my… my _curse_? I didn't know how to reverse the winter! I couldn't! Everything slowly faded into the background. There was only the chaos of my panic. There was no control! There was too much raw _fear_ to contain. A wave of pure magic exploded outwards from me. I saw my sister collapse onto the icy floor, clutching her heart, her face a mask of agony..."

Thomas gently tapped his mother's fisted hand. "Mother, it's snowing. In my room."

Elsa started, as if shaken from a trance. Slowly raising her hand to her cheek, she seemed surprised to find the rivulets of salt that had made their way down the pale skin. The snow slowed, and stopped. The Queen took a deep, trembling breath, pressing on.

"The very ice of the walls seemed to grow darker. Cracks spread beneath the surface, coming down from the ceiling with a low rumbling sound. All the while, only one thought existed in my mind. What had I done?

"Suddenly, a burly man in winter furs rushed into the room, shouting my sister's name and hurriedly moving to help her up. Despite it all, I was exasperated at the sight. Was this yet _another_ fiancé? I voiced my question, and just as quickly decided the answer did not matter. Anna was not safe here. She had to leave before I hurt her again, or the man. My sister still persisted, stubbornly saying that she would not leave without me. I did not give her a choice this time. I created Marshmallow."

"So _that's_ what Aunt Anna meant when she said creating Marshmallow wasn't completely thought through!" Thomas cut in, realization dawning on his face. Elsa nodded sadly.

"At that moment, I just needed Kristoff and Anna out of the palace. Marshmallow did his job well, though it seemed my sister took a lot of persuading before she left. As night fell, I was alone once more. But the happiness of freedom had completely left me, in its place, crippling fear. I had to get it together. To _control it_! My frustration and panic had me pacing the chamber frantically. What had my father taught me? Conceal, don't feel. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop _feeling_!

"Fear, Thomas. Fear had me in its clutches. So powerful it was that it transformed the once beautiful chamber into a nightmare, the walls glowing a sickly red, icy spikes worming their way to the surface, stabbing the air at wicked angles. Yet still I stayed, isolating myself even though I knew it was useless. Hiding from the world like the coward I was. Were it not for the soldiers, I would probably never have mustered the courage to leave.

"But the soldiers did come. I was awakened the next day by Marshmallow's enraged roars from outside the palace. I rushed to the gates, and saw a group of about fifteen men, Prince Hans as their leader, battling my guardian at the foot of the staircase. I quickly shut the doors, but it was too late. Two men had already spotted me, and they were racing up the stairs. The Duke of Weselton's guards.

"Once again, I ran. Through my palace, up the spiralling stairs, into my chamber behind the balcony. There was no where left to go after that. The men had cornered me. By the way they leveled their crossbows at my forehead, there was no mistaking their intent. The Duke had sent his assassins to kill the wicked sorceress. I barely choked out a plea for mercy before the first bolt came at me. I raised my hands instinctively to protect my head, though I knew it was in vain. But the bolt never hit. When I opened my eyes, I saw that a sheet of ice had formed in front of my raised hand, catching the bolt in mid air.

"The Duke's men seemed quite shocked by the display, but being the trained assassins they were, they quickly resumed their attack. I warned them to stay away. Even though they were trying to kill me, these men were still people, and I was scared to death of having to use my powers to protect myself. Unfortunately, the men were far too determined to end my life to heed the warning. They split up, coming at me from two directions. I'll have to admit, my instincts took over at that point. I was not prepared to die.

"As one of the men took aim, I summoned a group of jagged spikes to intercept him. My goal was to pin him to the wall, but I could not stop myself from making a particularly sharp spike grow toward the man's throat. An almost _feral_ excitement filled my mind. I realized that I _wanted_ to use my powers on these men. Knocking the crossbow out of the other man's hands with a burst of magic, I conjured a heavy slab of ice, blowing it toward him with a blast of arctic wind. I pushed the man in the direction of the balcony, forming spikes on the sides of the slab to prevent his escape. The doors to the balcony shattered, revealing the sheer drop beyond. Yet I continued to force the man toward the edge.

"Whatever you do, Thomas, always _think_. Fear can so easily become anger. Anger directed at a person becomes hate. And when your heart is full of hate, as mine was, even the most horrible acts can be committed. No matter what happens, you must _never_ use your powers to hurt another."

"But, Mother, didn't you just say you made a spike grow toward the man's throat? And you were about to push the other man off the balcony!"

The Queen hung her head. "Actions I will regret to the end of my days, Thomas. I shudder to imagine the outcome had the battle not been interrupted. But it was. At that moment, Prince Hans finally burst into the room with the rest of the soldiers. I was too focussed on the Duke's men to even turn around at first, but Hans' words snapped me out of it. Words that will haunt me to my grave. 'Queen Elsa, don't be the monster they fear you are!' I whipped my head around to face the prince, and my arms slowly fell to my sides. With horror, I realized that, for one deadly moment, I had wanted to _kill_ my assassins. The terrible revelation froze me on the spot.

"My moment of inaction almost resulted in my death. Alas, the man whom I had pinned to the wall was much more determined than I gave him credit for. Even staring at the face of death, he still continued with his mission. With I in my shocked state, the man sensed an opening, and raised his crossbow at my head. Thankfully, Prince Hans took notice. He leapt at my would-be assassin, redirecting the crossbow high above its target. Unfortunately, the bolt still flew, slicing through the support that held the huge ice chandelier above my head in place. I tried frantically to scramble out of the way, but hard ice met the back of my head, throwing me into a world of darkness.

"I woke to find harsh stone walls glaring down at me. The bed under me was hard and clammy, and the sheets were barely more than rags. My location was all too obvious; I was in the dungeons of Arendelle Castle. I moved to a sitting position, examining myself for injuries. My ice dress was still entirely intact, and apart from the dull throb of my head, it seemed I had escaped bodily harm.

"The barred window at the far wall drew my attention. Though it was the height of July, the light coming from outside was strangely grey. Realization dawned on me. I ran to the window, but found myself jerked to a halt by my arms. I looked down to find my hands completely covered in iron manacles, thick chains trailing back behind me. But the scene outside the window was far, far worse. I saw ships trapped on the frozen surface of the fjord, snow falling heavily, smothering the land in frigid white. The fear and desperation returned full force. What had I done?

"I heard the sound of the cell door being unlocked. In walked Prince Hans, shivering in the bitter cold, his breath forming puffs of fog in front of his face. A hint of anger stirred at the sight of him. He had some nerve to put the _Queen of Arendelle_ in a dungeon! I demanded of him the reason he had incarcerated me. He sighed, saying he couldn't have just let them kill me. At that, I gave a start. Had the prince really been looking out for my survival? Truly, I _was_ a danger to my kingdom. The eternal winter proved that.

"I told Prince Hans to fetch Anna. No matter what happened, I had to see my sister again. But then Hans broke the news. Anna had not returned. Images of my dear sister freezing to death out there in the harsh winter landscape, _my_ winter, sent me tumbling back into despair. The prince turned to me with imploring eyes, begging me to stop the winter, to bring back summer. It was then that I finally admitted my dark predicament. With tears in my eyes, I made my confession to Hans. 'Don't you see? I _can't!_'

"Now it was my turn to beg. With Anna missing and my powers slipping from my control by the minute, I knew I couldn't stay locked in the dungeon. I begged Hans to tell the council to _let me go_! The prince just nodded sadly, saying he would do what he could. There was something about his demeanor that made me feel uneasy. When the door slammed behind Hans, fear began to creep up on me once more. What if Hans couldn't get the council on my side? What if I was to be executed? Despite all the wrongs I had done my kingdom, I was not ready to die!

"My powers reacted to my fear. The manacles that covered my hands began to frost over, the iron surface quickly becoming enveloped by the spreading ice. I began to pace the room, horrific scenarios of both my and my sister's deaths flashing through my mind. I had to get free! The ice spread down the chains and up onto the walls and ceiling, crawling across the wooden roof supports. The metal of my manacles groaned, growing almost blue in the extreme cold."

"Oh, oh, Mother! I remember my physical sciences tutor teaching me this! When iron gets extremely cold, it can break like glass, right? Is that how you escaped?"

Elsa smiled at her son. "Yes, eventually. It really was quite a close call, though. It seemed the Duke of Weselton had convinced the council to follow through with his plan to execute the wicked sorceress. I could hear his voice just outside my cell door, warning the guards to move quickly because of how dangerous I was. Panic really set in then. I pulled on my manacles with all my might, willingly directing the ice to cover the door in order to buy some extra time. Finally, the manacles yielded, splitting open under the stresses of cold and force. The guards had almost broken in, and the ice locking the door frame cracked and splintered at every blow. In a moment of desperation, my powers shattered the roof supports, bringing the ceiling down almost on top of me. With a power I never knew I possessed, I made the wall trapping me freeze completely solid before disintegrating, leaving a gaping hole through which I escaped into the snow beyond.

"Out on the open fjord, my powers truly raged out of control. Though there was already a blizzard present, what I created was more like a cyclone. I watched helplessly as columns of thick, roiling clouds began to spiral up from the ground, obscuring everything in opaque grey. The wind picked up to hurricane force. I couldn't see; I couldn't _think!_ Fear had once again consumed me. I knew only to run.

"The furious tempest seemed to grow even more intense, snow flying almost horizontally through the air. My hair flapped in the wind in its single braid, and my dress flew out behind me. I could see nothing but the ice and snow, hear nothing but the howling winds. Time lost all meaning. There was only the storm.

"But then there came a voice, straining to be heard above the wind. A voice I _never_ wanted to hear again. Prince Hans had found me. His hair was blown into a wild mess, his meagre coat offering little protection from the blizzard raging on around me. 'Elsa, you can't run from this!' he shouted. The statement had me stop in my tracks. Was that what I was doing? Running away? The thought had me turn around, had me tell the prince my final, desperate wish.

"'Just take care of my sister!'

"Hans continued to advance, the sword handle protruding from his belt glinting dangerously. But it was his words that cut to the bone. 'Your sister?' he scoffed. 'She returned from the mountain weak and cold! She said that _you_ froze her heart!' It was as if _my_ heart had turned to ice at that moment. I felt faint, unable to fully comprehend the full horror of it all. No! Not Anna! Not my dear sister!

"But Hans was far from done. 'I tried to save her, but it was too late! Her skin was ice, her hair turned white!' I flashed back to that night in the ballroom all those years ago, when I had struck Anna with my magic. Her skin had turned ice cold, and a streak of white had appeared in her strawberry hair. Which meant… Hans was telling the truth. I withered as if the prince's words were physical blows. But the worst had yet to come. Hans glared at me balefully. 'Your sister is _dead!_ Because of _you!_'

"My heart was gone. Carved from my chest, leaving a black void where it used to be. Before, I had felt horror. Now, I was simply… empty. The world beyond my eyes faded into a dull grey blur. My body crumpled onto the frozen surface of the fjord, the sound of the storm fading away into utter silence. I heard the clear ringing of Hans drawing his blade from behind me. I closed my eyes. Having thought I'd killed my sister, I was more than ready to die. I welcomed it.

"But just as I heard the whistling of the blade that would end my miserable existence, a shadow fell over me, as a voice shouted in defiance. A voice I thought I had silenced forever. Anna. 'NO!' was her cry, accompanied by the sound of freezing ice. There was the sharp crack of snapping steel, and I saw Hans hurled onto his back, going limp as his head connected with the cold ice of the fjord. In a daze, I looked up.

"Standing over me was the most exquisite ice statue I had ever seen. Its feminine figure was backed by a heavy winter cloak that billowed out behind it, and one hand was raised as if shielding against a great force. But it was the face that brought me painfully back to reality. The face of my sister, forever frozen in time. My heart was shoved violently back into my chest, only to be eviscerated in my complete and utter sorrow at the sight. I threw myself upon the statue that was once my sister, ragged sobs wracking my body. I cried as I had never cried before, pouring out my wretched soul, bitter tears of grief and regret flowing freely down my cheeks.

"But then something strange began to happen. Slowly, the material of Anna's cloak grew soft again, colour seeping back into the ice. Her arms fell to at her sides, her skin regaining a healthy pallor, her hair strawberry-blonde once more. My sister exhaled, falling limp into my arms, exhausted, but wholly alive! I cried her name, embracing her with the purest joy. My sister was alive! Anna was _here_, in my arms! The relief that washed over me kept me clinging to her all the harder. Anna was alive.

"After what seemed like an eternity, but was still far too short, Anna and I pulled away from each other enough to speak face to face. I was stunned that my sister had sacrificed her _life_ to save mine. 'I love you,' was her simple, sincere reply.

"There was a gasp from my right. I turned to see none other than Olaf, holding his head above his shoulders in a sudden realization. 'An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart!' And, indeed, that is what had saved Anna from my curse. Not me, but her _love_ for me. Love was the answer all along, Thomas."

The dying embers of the fire glowed in the hearth, flickering off Elsa's soulful eyes. "Love will thaw. If only I had let myself open my heart to my sister's love, I would have gained control long, long ago. Isolation will only lead to fear and despair. Although at times you may need to conceal, always, always allow yourself to _feel_. Love will always be stronger than fear, Thomas. Always."

* * *

_**So! I watched Frozen many times to make sure I got all the events and dialogue perfectly as I wanted them. I hope this was a fair rendition of Elsa's take on the events that transpired in the movie.**_

_**As always, REVIEWS are greatly appreciated! Did I voice Elsa accurately? Is the plot moving too slowly? Go write something in that box down there!**_


	10. An Invitation From Afar

_**Disclaimer: Disney owns Frozen and Tangled. Yes, Tangled.**_

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**Chapter 10: An Invitation From Afar**

As Thomas entered his teen years, his royal studies intensified. The young prince was forced to memorize the tediously long list of royal and noble titles, and could soon draw the map of Arendelle in his sleep. Previously trivial subjects such as arithmetic and rhetoric increased to almost painful difficulty, consuming far more time and effort than ever before. However, all of this was nothing compared to Thomas' language studies.

As the Crown Prince and future King, Thomas was going to have to be fluent in all the major languages of Europe. Knowing this full well, Elsa and Henrik hired tutors for their son on almost ten such languages (having to re-hire several times due to some tutors having an aversion towards talking snowmen). The young prince soon found himself regarding his new courses with great frustration. Swedish and Danish were close to Thomas' mother tongue of Norwegian, and so presented little challenge; but languages such as English and Russian were completely different, making learning them a strenuous and gruelling task. But the language that was the object of Thomas' utter hatred was, alas, French.

"_Bonjour!_" The aged French tutor was always cheerful to the point of absurdity, his fat moustache like grey slug atop the man's lip, wriggling as he spoke.

"_Bonjour, monsieur_," Thomas replied halfheartedly.

"_Comment ca va, aujourd'hui?_" The tutor gave an expectant smile, patiently waiting as Thomas struggled desperately for an answer.

"_Ca va… _Uh... _Ca va bien?_"

In the far corner of the room, Sir Gingivere's palmed his face (or lack thereof) with an audible clank.

The tutor tsked, wiggling his finger in front of the young prince's face "Your lack of practice this week is evident. Repeat after me! _Comment ca va? Ca va bien! Ca va mal! Ca va comme ci comme ca!_"

Thomas groaned, secretly wishing he could freeze the man's moustache off and be done with it. "_Comment ca va? Ca va bien_"...

To Thomas' dismay, his cousins shared little of the young prince's new burdens. Annabeth and Christopher still lived carefree lives, their studies hardly even changing with their increasing age. When confronted about the situation, Elsa smiled, feeling more than a little empathetic for her son.

"Oh, Thomas, you are the heir! Of course you're going to have to work harder than everyone else." The Queen looked her son in the eyes, gently holding the boy's hand. "People will always need someone to look up to. Someone to lead them. Someone to _fight for_. As King, you will be that someone. And in order to gain your subjects' loyalty, you must prove yourself to be a solid and capable leader. That capability will only come from education."

Elsa smoothed back a platinum-blonde lock from Thomas' face. "The crown is a heavy burden to bear, Thomas. The work you have now is but a fraction of the work you will have as King." There was a hint of wryness in the Queen's smile. "Get used to it."

But studying alone never made a strong leader, and Elsa knew the fact all too well. What Thomas needed was experience; experience that could only be attained through real life interaction with people. After all, the young prince's studies would be for nothing if he didn't put his new skills to practical use. With this in mind, it seemed a strange stroke of fortune when the invitation came.

* * *

_His Majesty the King, Eugene Fitzherbert_

_and_

_Her Majesty the Queen, Rapunzel Fitzherbert_

_invite your attendance_

_to the festivities_

_in honour of the seventeenth birthday of their son_

_Warner Fitzherbert_

_to be held on Monday, the fifteenth day of August_

_eighteen hundred and thirty-one_

_in the Kingdom of Corona_

Thomas read over the invitation slowly, an inkling of excitement beginning to build within his chest. He looked up at his mother, who stood to the side of his table, watching him.

"Mother, isn't Queen Rapunzel a cousin of yours?"

"Yes, indeed! My own mother was the younger sister of her mother, making Rapunzel your…" Elsa paused in thought, finger to her chin. "...first cousin, once removed. That makes Prince Warner your second cousin."

The young prince frowned a little as he tried to make sense of the ranks of kinship, and gave up soon after. "And I thought royal and noble titles were confusing!" Thomas grumbled.

His mother laughed. "Don't worry, even I get caught up with family trees most of the time. Your aunt can barely get through nieces and nephews without getting lost!"

Rapunzel, Rapunzel... Why was that name so familiar? Thomas gave a start. "Wait, isn't Queen Rapunzel the one with the magical hair? The one who married that thief… Flynn, Flynn Rider?"

Elsa's smile tightened a little at the edges. "His real name is Eugene Fitzherbert, and he is certainly a thief no longer! He is the King of Corona now, having inherited the throne from Rapunzel's parents a good seven years ago. As for your cousin's magical hair, it was cut short during her battle with her kidnapper, Mother Gothel, and so lost all of its magical properties… I'm sure King Eugene will tell the tale much better than I can."

When he realized the implications of the statement, Thomas' excitement soared. "So we are going then! When will we depart? Oh, and can we take Sir Gingivere with us? I can't stand the thought of leaving the good knight behind! Who else is coming..."

The young prince's babbles were cut short by the creak of the opening door. In marched the good knight in question, nodding to his master, bending over in an elaborate bow to the Queen.

"Apologies for my intrusion, Master Thomas, Your Majesty, but I couldn't help but hear my mention in your conversation. May I inquire as to the topic that has Master Thomas' in such excitement?"

Elsa smiled courteously at Sir Gingivere. "Come now, there is no need for such formality between us! At ease, good sir! We are family, after all."

The knight bowed his head, and, had he a face, would have been grinning sheepishly. "I cannot help it, Your Majesty. It is part of who I am! Now, what of your conversation?"

To that, Thomas was more than happy to oblige. "We are going to the Kingdom of Corona to attend the festivities of my second cousin Prince Warner's seventeenth birthday!" the young prince quickly explained in a single breath, practically shoving the invitation letter in the knight's face. Sir Gingivere scanned over the paper, tapping his icy chin.

"Your second cousin, yes? But that would make one of Prince Warner's grandparents a sibling to one of your grandparents! All of whom were great monarchs. What a powerful lineage of rulers your family has, Master Thomas! But, alas, this does not explain why _I_ was being discussed in the conversation."

The Queen placed a gentle hand upon her son's shoulder. "My son cannot abide being parted from you, it seems, and wishes for your company on our voyage to Corona. What say you, Sir Gingivere?"

The knight seemed surprised at first, but quickly stood ramrod straight, placing a hand to his breastplate. "It would be my honour, Your Majesty." Sir Gingivere then proceeded to cock his head at Thomas in what was probably a teasing smirk. The young prince shrugged.

"What? I got to keep an eye on you! If Olaf has taught me anything, it's that if you leave a live snowman on his own, all sorts of strange trouble will occur." With that, Thomas turned back to his mother, almost bouncing with eagerness. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's make preparations!"

* * *

The polished wood of the desk glinted tauntingly up at him, the piles of letters and trade agreements like flotsam in a sea of red. Oh, how he hated that infernal surface! His desk had come to represent all his failures, how all he did was in vain. Upon it he had spent a good portion of his _life_, working away for countless hours, the pen in his hand almost becoming a part of him. Yet no matter how many letters he wrote, agreements he signed, there was now little hope for the once great and wealthy Duchy of Weselton.

Ever since that scandalous _incident_ in Arendelle, the name of his land had been befouled. People were wary, eyeing him with distrust during diplomatic meetings, and keeping a safe distance from the nation whose leader attempted the murder of a Queen. His vast trade network had crumbled as news of the scandal reached other lands, and the treasury had dried up with it. Without supplies, mere _survival_ had become uncertain, and there had been a mass exodus from Weselton when the harsh winters finally became unbearable without the traded goods the nation had once taken for granted. Never mind the fact that the wicked sorceress whom he had tried rid the world of held total control over the winter elements!

He wearily ran a hand through his frail grey hair. Age had not been kind to the Duke of Weselton. At times like this, it was as if he could _feel_ the energy draining from his decrepit body, his very life force a feeble flame sputtering at the tip of a dying candle. A sudden rage overcame the Duke. All those wasted years, _decades_, for _nothing! _In a single, furious motion, he sent the piles of parchment atop his desk flying about his study in a blizzard of white and yellow. A _blizzard_, of all things!

The Duke leapt from his chair and paced the room, practically vibrating with anger. When it came down to it, his entire demise could be traced down to one name. The name of the one person whom he both hated and feared utterly. Queen Elsa of Arendelle. When that wretched _sorceress_ was discovered for who she was, did the citizens of her kingdom burn her at the stake as she rightfully deserved? No. They seemed to care not that their ruler was a monster, that their Queen could plunge them into winter whenever she pleased! Instead, they seemed to simply _adore_ Elsa, and remained completely loyal to their Snow Queen, snow and all!

What truly irked the Duke more than he dared to admit was how _successfully_ the Queen of Arendelle ruled. Since the Great Thaw, the Kingdom of Arendelle had enjoyed great peace and prosperity, things that were now but faraway dreams for Weselton. As his nation's trade network had collapsed, theirs had grown and grown, with many of the Duke's original partners turning to Arendelle when news of his assassination attempt reached their ears. An assassination that would have been successful if not for a certain Prince of the Southern Isles…

At this, the Duke turned on his heel and began pacing in the other direction, a finger to his moustache in contemplation. Now that he really thought about it, there was another who had been key to his downfall. The man who thwarted the Duke's assassins from killing the Queen, only to attempt to cut her down himself. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, and his diabolical secret agenda. At least _he_ had gotten his just desserts, incarcerated in his own kingdom, and by his own brothers at that! In fact...

The Duke's musings were brought to an untimely halt when the heel of his boot slipped upon one of many pieces of parchment scattered about the hardwood floor. The aged man unbalanced, nearly toppling over, his arms pinwheeling frantically in an attempt to right himself. When he finally managed to place both feet firmly on the floor, he glared at the offending letter with contempt. Swiping it from the ground, the Duke was on the verge of ripping it to shreds when his eyes caught the message on the paper.

_His Majesty the King, Eugene Fitzherbert_

_and_

_Her Majesty the Queen, Rapunzel Fitzherbert_

_invite your attendance_

_to the festivities_

_in honour of the seventeenth birthday of their son_

_Warner Fitzherbert_

_to be held on Monday, the fifteenth day of August_

_eighteen hundred and thirty-one_

_in the Kingdom of Corona_

The Duke leaned back a little, scrutinizing the letter in his hand with squinted eyes, other hand on his moustache once more. Corona was an enigma. While almost all the other nations had repealed their trade agreements, the Kingdom of Corona had remained a steady partner with Weselton, and trade had continued with little change from before. What was even more bizarre was the fact that Corona was not only close allies with Arendelle, but the Queen of Corona was actually a relative of the Queen of Arendelle's. Indeed, the monarchy of Corona certainly had not been friendly towards the Duke after the _incident_, and his denied requests for a personal audience with them was testament to the fact. He could never decipher the true motives behind Corona's continued trade with Weselton...

Despite everything, the Duke's curiosity was piqued. Attending the festivities at Corona could possibly grant him a chance to speak with the royals in person, to discuss matters of importance regarding both their nations. The excitement of his younger self had been awakened. This could be his chance to finally figure Corona out once and for all. This could be his chance to gain a strong political ally to Weselton!

"_Gilbert!_" His decision made, the Duke called for his steward. The short, potbellied man quickly made himself present, surveying the mess in the study with horror. At the sound of the Duke's clearing throat, however, the man shook himself and stood smartly to attention.

"You summoned me, Your Grace?"

The Duke handed the (slightly damaged) invitation letter to his steward, barely even giving the man a chance to read before he gave his commands. "Make travel preparations for me and a dozen of my best Ducal Guards. We leave for the Kingdom of Corona within a fortnight!"

"Yes, Your Grace!" Gilbert bowed hurriedly and scurried from the room, letter clutched in hand. The Duke of Weselton eased himself back into his chair, kicking aside a couple of scattered papers as he did so. There was a glint in his spectacled eyes, a devious smile upon his face like in glorious days of old. _Ah, Corona! My most mysterious trade partner! Open up those gates so I can unlock your secrets and exploit your riches!_

* * *

Negotiations within the Arendellian royal family usually consisted of Anna's side arguing amongst themselves while Elsa's side looked on with amusement. The aftermath of the invitation from Corona being made known was little different.

"I'm going, so you're coming too!" stated Anna with her nose in the air, the stamp of her foot muffled by the carpet of the Portrait Room. Joan of Arc seemed to glare down at Kristoff, siding with Anna as always. The mountain man scratched the back of his head, glancing uneasily at the painted audience situated about the room, giving his wife a helpless little shrug.

"Sorry, Anna, but I gotta stay and take care of my ice business! It's high summer, and it's bound to be a busy month!"

"Pfft! Aren't there other ice harvesters? Your business will survive without you for a month!"

"I…uh!" Kristoff sputtered, but before he could think of a retort, his wife cut in again.

"Exactly! You have no good reason for staying in Arendelle! Plus, Eugene's been asking about you ever since our last visit!" At that, there was an audible laugh from Henrik from his position on the couch. The King leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him.

"Fitzherbert was quite the… adventurer back in his day, or so I've heard. I think your existence brings a measure of comfort to the man! After all, you two have backstories more similar than you would like to admit!" Henrik gave a wink at his brother-in-law. "Take it from me; it is never wise to disappoint a king. Go on! I'm sure you will enjoy some time abroad!"

The Queen laughed as well. "I suppose _you_ are still set on staying, love?"

The King gave his wife a grin. "Alas, kingdoms do not run themselves! Besides, I have been letting you do more than your share of the royal duties for far too long! It is high time for you to take a much needed break from responsibility, my Queen."

"Well, if you so insist!" Elsa relented dramatically.

Christopher leaned over to Thomas. "Why can't my parents agree with each other like that? It would certainly save a whole lot of time if they didn't bicker over everything!"

"I heard that!" came Anna's shout from across the room. Thomas snickered a little at his older cousin's misfortune.

"So, that's _Kristoff_, Anna, Annabeth, Christopher, Elsa, and Thomas that will be travelling to Corona," a rather flustered Kai recapped, jotting down the names on a scroll of parchment. "Did I miss anyone?"

"Oh! You seem to have forgotten me!" exclaimed Sir Gingivere, coming to life from his placement beside the grandfather clock. Kai looked over his scroll at the knight, tapping his pen on his chin.

"Would you prefer to be listed as a party guest or as a member of the Royal Guard?" the servant inquired. "Your presence will certainly be cause for great disruption, regardless…" he couldn't help but mutter afterwards.

Before the knight could answer, Thomas suddenly remembered the _other_ live snowman in the family. "Oh, that reminds me! Is Olaf coming with us?"

"Good heavens, no! Could you imagine how the citizens of Corona would react to a live snowman in their midst? Bringing Sir Gingivere along is already a risk as it is!" the Queen exclaimed.

"Yeah, it took long enough for the people of _this_ kingdom to stop running around screaming at the sight of him," Kristoff muttered. "For his sake, it think Olaf has had enough screaming and fainting for a good while!"

"So it is settled then?" Kai asked tiredly. "No more _last minute_ changes?"

"I believe so," Elsa agreed, looking over to her sister. "Unless Anna has any more requests?"

"Nope!" the younger sister stated. "I got Kristoff to come. My work here is done!"

"Very well. Majesties and Highnesses, the preparations for your voyage should be complete within a fortnight, at the latest." With that, Kai turned on his heel and marched smartly out the door.

From her vantage on the wall, Joan of Arc gazed mournfully down at the assembled royals, as if she already knew of the dark happenings to come.

* * *

_**For the sake of knowledge, the characters' ages (during this and the next few chapters) are as follows: Elsa (41), Henrik (42), Anna (38), Thomas (14), Christopher (16), Annabeth (17), the Duke of Weselton (75)**_


	11. Over the Horizon

_**Disclaimer: Tangled and Frozen are both fabulous movies, movies of which I own nothing.**_

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**Chapter 11: Over the Horizon**

For the past few decades, Captain Norman Edwards of the Arendellian Royal Fleet had seen far too little of the open sea for his liking. Granted, the Queen certainly had cause to fear the ocean, given the fates of her deceased parents; but as a sailor who now spent most of his days on dry land, the captain couldn't help but feel resentment at being stuck on the shore while his heart yearned so for the sea.

The ship, forever moored to its post on the harbor, its sails deprived of the ocean winds, seemed just as dejected as its captain. A mighty galleon of times bygone, the _Albatross_ was quite a sight to behold despite its considerable age. Legend was that the first King of Arendelle had ordered its construction himself, to be his personal vessel for travel on the high seas. The _Albatross_ had certainly had its share of adventure back in the day; now it was but an inert ornament in an otherwise bustling fjord. Though traditionally there were two ships in the Royal Fleet reserved for the royal family, after the _Majesty_ met its demise in the storm that claimed the lives of the previous monarchs, no orders or funds had been given for a replacement ship. So the _Albatross_ sat alone in the harbor, unmanned and unused, swaying as if in silent mourning for its lost partner.

It was thus that Kai found Captain Edwards, leaning on the rear mast of his ship, a faraway look in his eyes. The sun was just cresting over the horizon, its light glistening on the fjord in a streak of liquid gold, imbuing all it touched with the exuberance of dawn. At the servant's clearing throat, the sailor shook himself back into the present, turning his piercing gaze in the direction of the sound. When his eyes alighted on Kai, the corners of Captain Edwards' mouth pulled up in a wide smile.

"Well, hello, Kai! It's been quite the while since we've last seen each other!" The sailor spread his arms wide, motioning for an embrace. After a moment of hesitation, Kai conceided to the hug.

"Far too long, agreed! How is an old sailor like you doing after all these years?"

The men pulled apart, the captain taking a seat on the polished wooden railing of his ship, beckoning the servant to do the same.

"Oh, things could be worse, I guess. It's just that there's so little to do these days. The royals barely ever travel by sea anymore! I can certainly understand why, but I miss dearly the ocean breeze, the salty spray from the bow as I sailed into the sun... But what's a man to do?" The sailor shook his head slowly, suddenly melancholy as he reminisced of days past. However, when he turned to face Kai again, the smile was back. "Anyways, you probably didn't come all this way just to make small talk with this old sea dog! Tell me, how can I help you?"

"You miss the sea, do you not? Well, my friend, I have some good news for you!" The servant produced a small scroll of parchment from behind his back, unrolling it to show to the captain. "Her Majesty has recently received an invitation from the King and Queen of Corona for her and her family's attendance to the festivities in honour of the Crown Prince of Corona's seventeenth birthday, to be held on the fifteenth day of August." There was a long pause, as Kai was quite out of breath by the end of that particular sentence.

Captain Edwards took the scroll into his hands, slowly scanning over the contents.

"Queen Elsa has requested your service for the transport of the royal family to and from the Kingdom of Corona," Kai finished with a smile. "What do you say?"

A slow grin made its way onto the captain's face, and it was as if the burdens of age and sadness sloughed off the man's shoulders in an instant. "Would you be so kind to fetch Admiral Raimund of the Royal Navy? We have some things to discuss, preparations to make!"

Kai smiled as well. "Splendid! I will send for the Captain of the Royal Guard and the Queen herself, as well." The servant patted his friend on the shoulder. "Captain Edwards, you are in for quite the heated argument!" With that, Kai walked off the _Albatross_, back in the direction of Arendelle Castle, leaving a now slightly worried captain on the deck of his ship.

* * *

The Duke of Weselton stepped slowly onto the _Swiftwater_, the shine of his boots a stark contrast to the dull planks of the deck. The Ducal Guard followed their charge closely, marching in unison on board the brigantine, faces emotionless as if their features were carved of stone. The Duke strutted up and down the ranks of his guards, examining the men closely. To their credit, the Guard remained utterly motionless, a dozen silent sentinels in the rising sun.

"You are to follow my every order, no matter what the circumstances." The Duke paced the deck, looking into the eyes of every man in the ranks. "You are to put my life above your own, to protect me at all costs!" He stopped in place, planting his boot firmly onto the floorboards with a click of his heel. "Is that understood?"

"_Sir, yes, sir!_" came the unanimous reply.

The Duke nodded in satisfaction. "Very well. To your quarters, men! We have a long journey ahead of us." Turning to the captain, he raised his hand straight into the air. "Loose the moorings! Anchors aweigh! We sail for Corona!"

The aged brigantine pulled slowly from the harbor, its sails billowing in the wind, the dark emblem of Weselton glaring defiantly out at the breaking dawn. The Duke walked to the prow of his vessel, arms held stiffly behind his back, the ocean breeze blowing his coattails out behind him. His expression was one of grim determination.

_To Corona_.

* * *

"I _will not_ concur to having two fully armed frigates flanking my ship!" the Queen exclaimed. Elsa placed her hands onto the cabin desk, palms together, her icy blue eyes utterly resolute. "Gentlemen, I realize my safety is of high concern. However, such a show of military force is not only completely unnecessary, but will act as a detriment to our reputation! We are journeying to Corona for a vacation, not to conquer the kingdom!"

"But, Your Majesty, it will be difficult to accommodate for all of the Royal Guard here in the _Albatross_ alone!" the Captain of the Guard protested. The Queen sighed, clasping her hands together slowly. She turned her unwavering gaze up to the man.

"Then lower the number of guards. You undoubtedly plan for a small army to accompany us to Corona, but once again, that is completely unnecessary! The monarchy of Corona are close friends and my family's relatives. I am certain they can lend some of their Guard to assist us if the need arises!" Elsa looked to Admiral Raimund. "And besides, I highly doubt anyone present will be of the slightest danger to me or my family. Our only real political enemy is Weselton, and the Duke is unlikely to be stupid enough to try another assassination, given how well his last attempt turned out."

There was a noticeable cringe in both military men at the mention of the incident.

"If that… _event_ has taught us anything, it is that it is better to be safe than sorry," the Admiral stated solemnly. The Captain of the Guard nodded darkly.

From his position in the corner, Captain Edwards watched the proceedings with baited breath. Kai certainly had not been exaggerating the intensity of the argument! With each passing moment, the sailor grew less and less convinced that he should even be present for this. It wasn't as if he was getting a say in anything, anyway...

"...Captain Edwards. Captain Edwards!"

The captain's head snapped to attention at the sound of Admiral Raimund's voice.

"I'm sorry?"

The Admiral cleared his throat. "Once again, what is the exact number of living quarters available on this ship?"

"Well, I would have to check to be certain, but... just over three hundred, I'd say?" The captain's brow furrowed in thought. "Take away the living space needed for the sailors…" He looked to the Queen. "...and the royal family, of course, and you have room for about a hundred and fifty other men."

Admiral Raimund stroked his beard. "Hmm… yes, enough room for a company of guards, and a decent number of men to operate the cannons."

At this, Elsa started, whirling to face the Admiral, an expression of incredulity on her face. "Wait, cannons?!"

The Admiral blinked. "The _Albatross_ was built to house over eighty cannons, to be used for self-defense should there ever be the need. We must be prepared for every eventuality, Your Majesty."

The Queen seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then slumped back into her chair, kneading the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "Very well, just as long as we keep the gunports _completely_ shut unless there is a dire need to actually use the armaments."

Admiral Raimund bowed, relieved to have finally reached an agreement. "Of course, Your Majesty."

The Captain of the Guard produced a pen from his breast pocket. "So, that will be ninety Royal Guards along with… fifty, let's say, in reserve to man the cannons?" The man looked tentatively over to the Queen. "Agreed?"

Elsa nodded. "Agreed. When shall we be ready for departure?" All eyes turned to Captain Edwards.

"Uh, ahem! With the preparations you have requested, two days, no more." The sailor fidgeted nervously under the heavy stares. "Um, I will get my men to start loading the _Albatross _promptly, shall I?"

* * *

Thomas looked out over the fjord from the window of his room, the calm waters glistening in the morning light. To think that, within a week, he would be further away from home than even the mountains that surrounded the kingdom, at a distance so enormous he could barely _comprehend_ it. The young prince raised his gaze out across the sea, for the first time truly realizing its utter vastness. Out there lay lands unknown, tales untold. Out there lay the world beyond the horizon.

_Out there lie the bodies of my grandparents._ Suddenly, an icy fear seized Thomas. What if he were to share their fate, to sail out into the great blue, never to return? What if he never saw Father again? A slight crackling sound registered in the young prince's ears. Looking down, he found that frost had formed on the windowsill beneath his fingers. He shook himself, screwing his eyes shut. _Control. No fear. No fear! Father's always returned from his travels to other kingdoms. I will too! _But the frost continued to creep up the window pane.

"Aaah! _No fear!_" In his frustration, a burst of magic left Thomas' hand, wicked spikes of ice exploding outwards from him. The young prince sank to his knees amidst the chaos, tears of shame welling up in his eyes. _What did Mother say? Love is stronger than fear! But no amount of love could save my grandparents from the merciless waves!_

The door opened abruptly, the soft clanking of ice on marble quickly moving to Thomas' side. "Master Thomas, what seems to be the matter?"

Thomas turned his head to find Sir Gingivere looking down upon him from outside the tangle of spikes, head cocked to one side in concern. The young prince wiped at his eyes with a sleeve.

"Oh, Sir Gingivere, what a coward I am! Mere days from my first journey aboard a ship and now I suddenly fear we are to sink and drown!"

"Well, that is a perfectly natural fear to have! Indeed, fear of the unknown is imbedded within our very souls! But think of it this way."

The knight had managed to skirt the icy spikes to place a comforting hand on his master's shoulder. "Have you ever heard of the saying, "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself"? Even the most lionhearted of us aren't immune to fear, Master Thomas. The key to staying courageous is to not _fear_ your fear. Take it for what it is. Fear simply points out to us what is dangerous, forces us to avoid trouble! So, if you really think about it, having a little fear is actually a good thing. But do not let your fears control you. Learn to move past them, to cast them aside if need be. _That_ is courage."

Sir Gingivere gently squeezed Thomas' shoulder. "Worry not, dear Thomas. We shall be quite alright, mark my words!"

The young prince sniffed. "You really think so?"

"Oh, I _know_ so!"

Thomas smiled up at his icy companion, the cold shards of panic in his heart seeming to melt away. The ice about the room slowly began to disappear, the temperature returning to the summer norm. The young prince sighed in relief. _Love will thaw._

Sir Gingivere clapped his master on the back. "I knew you had it in you! To Corona, Master Thomas?"

Thomas slowly stood, nodding firmly to the knight. His resolve hardened. No fear.

"To Corona."

* * *

"Watch your step, Highnesses! Yes, right this way!"

Captain Edwards beckoned the royal family up the wide gangplank, the sun overhead already an afternoon orange. Two Royal Guards waited readily on the deck of the _Albatross_, carefully helping the passengers on board. Many more men clad in Arendelle grey were situated about the ship standing stiffly to attention. When the last person was safely aboard the vessel, the captain walked briskly up the gangplank himself, gesturing to the workers on the dock.

"Raise the gangplank and loose the moorings!"

The men did as they were bid, the ship listing slightly as the thick ropes that fastened it to the dock were untied, the knots falling into the water with a splash. Captain Edwards moved to the helm, spinning the wheel with expert hands, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Anchors aweigh! Let down the sails! Ladies and gentlemen, Majesties and Highnesses, we sail for the Kingdom of Corona!"

The mighty galleon cruised away from the harbor, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed as it ploughed through the waves. Its shining white sails proclaimed the golden crocus of Arendelle out into the great yonder, the canvas afire in the light of dusk. From the shore, the clear ringing of silver trumpets resonated out toward the open sea, their song of farewell bittersweet in the setting sun.

On the deck, Christopher and Annabeth headed for the railings to enjoy the spectacular view, guards quickly flanking the royals to ensure their safety. Thomas and his mother stayed by the centre mast, Sir Gingivere standing silently beside them, glittering gold in the sun. The young prince couldn't help but shiver a little with apprehension. Making the commitment yesterday, while in the safety of his room, had been one thing; but now, sailing across open sea, the fear hit him anew. He shrank onto the solid wood of the mast behind him, desperately attempting to calm his churning stomach.

It was then that the call of the trumpets reached Thomas' ears. The soaring melody seemed to awaken a part of his spirit, to gently wipe his fears away. Tentatively at first, Thomas made his way to the prow of the ship. The endless expanse of water before him glowed radiant maroon as the sun made its way to the horizon. The ocean breeze lightly caressed the young prince's face, the salty spray from the bow cool and invigorating. The glorious scene before him seemed to melt straight into his heart, filling it with the joy and adventure of the high seas. How could he ever have _feared_ this? This freedom, this euphoria and rapture?

With an exultant whoop, Thomas threw his arms in the air, the hems of his coat billowing out behind him. There was a collective gasp from sailors and guards alike as snowflakes began to dance through the air around the young prince, a strong arctic wind suddenly pulling the sails taut above them. There was a hearty laugh from the helm.

"That's the spirit, lad!" Captain Edwards shouted. "Away we go!"

Sir Gingivere gave a laugh as well, his one of triumph.

"What did I say Master Thomas? There is nothing to fear but fear itself!"

Thomas grinned at the knight by his side.

"I just may enjoy this trip far more than I expected!"

* * *

The King of Arendelle stood tall atop the highest battlement of Arendelle Castle, gazing out over the vast sea. Already the _Albatross_ was but a fleck amongst the waves, backlit by the light of dusk, steadily taking his family away to lands afar. Though the sun reflected brilliantly off the water, painfully bright in Henrik's eyes, the King stood unmoving on the stone bricks, his grey stare fixed unwaveringly upon the distancing ship.

Unbidden, images of the immense gravestones of Elsa's parents seared into his mind. Gravestones under which there were no bodies. The sea was a fickle mistress, caring little for those she felled in her wrath. The sea kept eternal ownership over the lives it claimed. Tears obscured Henrik's vision.

_God have mercy, be it not the lives of my loved ones._

Thus the King stood, and thus he stayed, looking out over the great blue long after the _Albatross_ was consumed by the setting sun.


	12. The Raging Storm

_**Disclaimer: Frozen is not mine. Tangled isn't either.**_

* * *

_**Soundtrack: "In This World or the One Below" - ACIV OST**_

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Raging Storm**

The Duke of Weselton sat idly behind the faded desk, the air of the cabin thick and musty. With every consecutive sway of the ship, the contents of his stomach came that much closer to making a violent escape. The two guards flanking the door seemed unperturbed by the sickness that plagued their charge, though they often sneaked apprehensive glances at him as if fearing the sudden appearance of his lunch. The Duke had almost forgotten how much he hated seafaring. Dignity was the only thing that kept him from demanding the remaining duration of the journey to Corona at frequent intervals. Nonetheless, the Duke felt ready to tear the _Swiftwater_ apart plank by plank, the instant he set foot on dry land once more.

Three swift knocks on the door forced him to recompose himself for the moment.

"Who is it?" he snapped.

"Ahem! It's me, Captain Moore, Your Grace," came a gravelly voice from behind the wood. The Duke sighed, motioning to his guards.

"Let him in."

The door opened, the brilliant glare of the outside sun blinding the Duke for a moment. The briny ocean breeze prickled his nose, carrying an undertone of decaying fish. God, he hated the sea. With an expression of distaste, the Duke turned his bespectacled gaze to the man who had walked into the cabin.

"There had better be some good news, Captain."

"Ah, yes!" The bearded man seemed uneasy in the presence of his superior. "Well, I have come to report that we have spotted land ahead. We shall make port in Corona before nightfall..."

The captain's words were cut short as the Duke all but leapt from the table, pushing past and bolting onto the deck. Turning to the first sailor at hand, he swiped the spyglass from the man's belt, pointing it past the bow and squinting through intently. There it was! A faint green line on the horizon, upon it a great castle glittering in the afternoon sun, and growing closer by the minute!

The Duke shoved the spyglass back at the befuddled sailor with hardly a glance, strutting back to his cabin with renewed vigor. His ordeal was almost at an end.

* * *

A drop of water made impact with Thomas' cheek. Another landed on his lips. Licking at the moisture, the young prince was surprised to find it pure and devoid of salt. He turned his gaze up past the prow of the _Albatross_ to find dark, roiling clouds obscuring the sky not far in the distance. A sudden peal of thunder, and everyone else on board was looking to the clouds as well, fear evident in many eyes.

A heavy hand landed on Thomas' shoulder.

"Your Highness, it would be best for you to get below decks. The captain thinks we won't be able to outmaneuver the storm, and it will be safest if you aren't here when it hits." The guard placed a hand on the small of the young prince's back, steering him toward the staircase behind the mainmast. Thomas shook the man off, shaking his head.

"A little rain never hurt anyone!" he retorted, though he couldn't stop the cold terror in his chest from showing through. The guard sighed, a pleading look on his face.

"Please, Highness! Your aunt, uncle, and cousins are already down there!"

"What about my mother?"

"Her Majesty was the one who instructed me to get you to safety in the first place!"

"_Where is my mother?_"

There was a sudden chill in the air. The guard shifted uneasily. "Her Majesty is having a conversation with the captain," the man relented, gesturing to the stern of the ship.

Without another word, Thomas ran for the quarterdeck, the guard keeping steady pace. The young prince could see the silhouette of his mother backlit by the lights of the cabin, the figure of Captain Edwards beside her with both hands on the wheel.

"...no way to go around the storm?" The Queen's agitated voice drifted down from the helm.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but it's pulling us in! The _Albatross_ is a sailing vessel, and she can't sail against the winds!"

Elsa exhaled slowly, as if she was concentrating very hard on keeping a neutral expression. Spotting Thomas ascending the stairs up to the quarterdeck, her expression quickly changed to one of worry. Turning to the guard behind the young prince, the Queen fixed him with a steely glare.

"I told you to get my son below decks!"

The guard bowed his head. "My apologies, Your Majesty, but His Highness insisted on staying."

Elsa took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well. You are dismissed."

The guard bowed once more and walked back to his post. Thomas moved to his mother's side, eyeing the coming storm warily. Elsa looked to her son, almost unconsciously raising a hand to smooth back Thomas' hair. Though he thought such a show of motherly love slightly embarrassing, the young prince relaxed at the touch, nonetheless comforted by the familiar action. The Queen sighed.

"Why won't you go below decks and join Annabeth and Christopher?"

Thomas turned to face his mother. "But Mother, you're still out here!"

Elsa smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I am the Queen, Thomas, and I have a duty to fulfill. All these men look up to me, even pledged their _lives_ to me. How would it appear if their leader abandoned them in the face of calamity?"

Thomas squared his shoulders. "Then I will stay, too. Sir Gingivere told me courage is learning to put aside my fears. I will be courageous, Mother."

Elsa brushed the hair from Thomas' forehead. "I wish I was as brave as you when I was your age."

"But… but that's the problem, Mother. I'm _scared!_" Thomas trembled.

"It's alright... We'll be alright," Elsa murmured, as much to herself as to her son.

"How did this wonderful dream become such a nightmare?" Thomas whispered, an edge of fear creeping into his tone. His mother took hold of his hand.

"The sea is beautiful, yes, but she has a powerful temper," Captain Edwards said glumly, his brow furrowed at the looming storm. "And it seems she is angry today."

Thomas started, embarrassment momentarily blotting out his fear; he'd completely forgotten the captain's presence beside them. However, another peal of thunder, much closer this time, had the young prince instinctively gripping his mother's hand once more. The Queen gave a comforting squeeze, gazing out toward the storm with a dark expression on her face.

"The sea took my parents, Captain. To me, it will forever be a graveyard."

Captain Edwards nodded wearily. "Many a friend of mine was lost to the sea. Such is the life of a sailor."

A flash of lightning lit the faces of all on deck as fat drops of rain began pelting down from the blackening skies. The waves churned beneath the keel, spray from the hull drenching many a man who stood too close to the gunwale.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness, I would strongly recommend you get below decks right now!" Captain Edwards bellowed, suddenly having to fight the helm with all his strength.

A powerful gale ripped across the _Albatross_ from stern to bow, the ship giving a sudden lurch in the water. There was a panicked cry as a sailor almost lost his grip on the rigging, his fellow men quickly rushing to catch him lest he fall. Lightning flashed overhead, thunder roared like the wrath of gods, and sheets of unrelenting rain hammered onto the planked flooring. They had sailed into the storm.

Elsa looked to her son, who had his feet planted firmly upon the deck. Though he trembled with uncontained fear, there was a glint of fierce determination in his eyes. The storm would not best them. Her decision made, the Queen turned to the captain.

"We shall stay."

The man was too busy battling the wheel to give more than a glance to the royals. "Then, by God, hold on! This ride is about to get a whole lot wilder!"

As if on cue, a massive wave smashed into the bow, throwing sailors off their feet and setting the deck awash. The sails bulged in the howling winds, the ropes taut to the verge of snapping.

"Reef the mainsails further! The winds are too strong!" Captain Edwards struggled to be heard above the tumult of the storm. Sailors scrambled up the rigging, knives clenched in their teeth, not even bothering with the knots. The entire ship groaned as it listed from one side to the other, floundering in the merciless waves.

The captain's skin glistened with perspiration mixing with the downpour. The man's greying hair was tousled by the winds, his uniform clinging wetly to his aging frame. Nevertheless, his eyes bored out into the storm with defiant intensity. Defeat was not an option. "Hard to starboard!" the captain shouted, spinning the helm with all his might.

The _Albatross_ swayed dangerously as it nosed into a sharp turn, the bow slowly facing into the oncoming waves. Not quickly enough. A wall of water broadsided the ship, nearly dragging several sailors down into the abyss with it. The _Albatross_ rolled from the force of the blow, the deck tilting horizontally toward the heaving surface of the sea. Thomas was thrown off his feet, careening off the deck toward the churning waters below. Frantically, the young prince waved his arms, summoning a crude wall of ice to stop him from flying off the ship. There was a sharp scream from a panicked mother. Elsa whirled sharply to face Captain Edwards, her face a mask of rage.

"Are you _insane_?! You're going to capsize us and kill us all!"

"We will capsize anyway if I don't turn her around!" the captain yelled back. "_Hard to starboard!_"

Miraculously, the next swell that met the bow knocked the ship back upright. The _Albatross_ ploughed head-on into the waves, valiantly riding the crests and troughs, the deck surprisingly steadier than before. Thomas shook himself, finding himself unable to move. For an instant, the young prince feared the worst. Was he lapsing into a state of shock, having sustained a mortal injury? But, looking down, he realized the true root of his problem. Alas, his previously waterlogged clothing was now encased in solid ice, hard and unmoving around his body. The young prince mentally kicked himself. _I must have froze it in my panic._

With a groan, Thomas concentrated on finding the warmth and comfort within his heart, the love that was the key to thawing the ice. _There_. The soothing energy flowed through his veins and out into the open air. His clothing slowly reverted to pliant cloth once more, the protective wall behind him disappearing with scarcely a sound. Moving slowly to his feet, the young prince heard the erratic clop of boots on deck as no less than ten of the Royal Guard quickly surrounded his position.

Before any of the men could make a move, however, his mother had pushed through their ranks. Elsa's hair was sodden and dripping, her dress utterly drenched by the storm, but she seemed to not even notice. Her demeanor emanated worry and anxiety, her icy blue eyes seeing only her son. She ran to Thomas, crushing him in the tightest of embraces. "Oh, Thomas! I thought I'd lost you!" The Queen's voice shook with emotion.

"I'm fine, Mother." Thomas struggled to keep his voice steady, giving his mother a reassuring smile.

The Queen grabbed the young prince by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, young man!" The intensity of the command was nullified by the smile of relief on his mother's face. "Promise?"

Thomas grinned. "I'll try, Mother." That moment, the young prince could almost pretend he was being reprimanded for sliding down the banister, back in the familiar safety of Arendelle Castle. In a few moments, Aunt Anna would make her appearance and laugh merrily at how similar he was to her when she as a child. That suit of armour by the wall sure took its share of punishment back in the day...

Another crash of thunder dashed the veil from Thomas' eyes. He was not at home. He was on the deck of a ship bucking in a raging storm, the very storm that had proved deadly to his grandparents. He was lucky to even be alive! Aunt Anna wasn't even here to lighten the mood...

Thomas started. "What about Aunt Anna?"

There was a sizzling sound. The young prince looked to find frost spreading beneath the Queen's feet, her expression one of intense worry once more. She raised a hand to her forehead.

"How could I have forgotten!"

Elsa took long, swift strides down from the quarterdeck, making a beeline for the hatch that marked the staircase to the quarters below. Coalescing patterns of ice marked her passage on the slick planks of the deck, forcing the Royal Guards following the Queen to tread carefully, and thus, slowly.  
"Your Majesty, do be careful!" one called as the men fell steadily behind.

Thomas bolted after his mother, dodging sailors and guards left and right, unfazed by the ice on the floor. He _commanded_ the ice, and so he never slipped on it anyway. The young prince caught up to the Queen as she struggled with the latch on the trapdoor. The guards, who weren't far behind, rushed to assist their charge. They didn't quite make it.

The young prince's heart leapt to his throat as the _Albatross_ fell from the crest of a particularly large swell. The guards were knocked onto their backs, sliding helplessly about the deck as the bow of the ship rose to meet the next wave. Thomas grabbed hold of the mainmast, clutching at the wood for dear life as the _Albatross_ dropped once more, landing with a mighty splash in the valley between two moving walls of water.

"We're still moving too fast!" came the shout from the captain. "Put slack on the top mizzen!"

Sailors rushed to complete the order. As the ropes went slack, it was as if the bucking bull had been placated. The _Albatross_ slowly rose to the crest of the next wave, but this time, it stayed there. The sea still churned, and lightning still flashed overhead; but those on board felt nothing more than the rain upon their faces, even the fierce winds subsiding to a low breeze. There was a moment of blissful silence, before the cheers erupted.

"Ya did it, Cap'n!"

"Merciful God, we're saved!"

"Never a doubt in my mind, Cap'n!"

"Hah! Death? _Not today!_"

Amidst the chaos, the voice of the Crown Prince still carried through, clear and unmistakable.

"How did you do it?"

Captain Edwards' searching eyes found Thomas standing at the base of the mainmast, gazing up at him with wonder and praise. The captain gave the young prince a conspirational wink.

"First rule of sailing in a storm, lad! Go with it, not against it." The sailor laughed. "This old sea dog will sail another day!"

"Guards, I would very much appreciate it if you helped me open this hatch," Elsa reminded. The men quickly scrambled into action. Under the combined strength of two of the burly men, the trapdoor opened with a creak, revealing wooden steps leading into the darkness beyond. One of the guards walked down into the passage, beckoning for the royals to follow.

Thomas stepped into the gloom after his mother, his sense of foreboding growing with every step. Where were the lanterns, and why weren't they lit? There was a sudden flare ahead as the guard raised a lantern of his own to light the passage. His mother made a grab for his hand.

"Stay close, Thomas."

"I'm not going anywhere," the young prince replied, voice barely above a whisper.

The walls glowed pasty yellow under the flickering light of the lantern as they passed door after empty door. The silence was unnatural, as if there were cotton stuffed in Thomas' ears. The guard before them stopped, turning around to face the Queen.

"Your family's quarters should be right around this corner."

Elsa nodded. "Lead on."

The guard turned back around, swinging the lantern with him. What was revealed from the heavy gloom had the man flinching back in fear. Whereas previously there had been an empty corridor, now there stood a faceless suit of armour, the lantern light flickering eerily off the ice of which it was comprised. The entire entourage took an instinctive step back as the menacing figure marched toward them, the void behind the helmet terrifyingly riveting.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to have startled you!" The figure raised his hands in a gesture of peace, Sir Gingivere's familiar voice breaking the tension. Thomas let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding in.

"Wow, you scared us for a moment there! Remind me never to let _you_ into a dark corridor again!" The young prince chuckled, still a bit shaken by the knight's sudden appearance. His mother, apparently unfazed by the new development, stepped toward Sir Gingivere.

"Where is Anna? Where is the rest of my family? Are they alright?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. Right this way!" The knight bowed, turning back in the direction from whence he came, the Queen and her son close on his icy heels. The guard recomposed himself, straightening his shako and following quickly after his charges.

Sir Gingivere lead them to a closed set of double doors flanked by four other Royal Guards. Upon seeing the Queen, the men hastily moved to open the doors. The room beyond was well lit by the lamps that were situated in each corner. From the entrance, Thomas could see the edge of an upholstered couch, as well as the face of his cousin, lit by amber lamplight.

"Auntie Elsa? Tom? What happened to you?" Christopher asked, eyeing his dripping aunt and cousin with concern.

"Let's just say it's very wet on deck right now," Thomas replied with a smirk.

"Don't worry about _us_. Where is your mother?" Elsa moved for the doorframe, but Christopher blocked her passage with his body. The Queen turned to her nephew, fixing him with a hard stare. "Christopher, what is the meaning of this?"

Christopher shifted nervously. "Let's just say it's not very pretty in there right now…"

"All the more reason for me to go in. Let me through!"

Christopher stepped aside, raising his hands in defeat. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The smell hit Thomas first. A fetid reek of fish and bile, almost palpable in the cabin air. Further inspection revealed Kristoff seated on the couch, hunkered over a _once_ empty barrel, his face of a sickly green complexion. Annabeth sat beside her father, the pallor of her cheeks resembling that of stale cabbage, seeming as if she were trying very hard not to open her mouth. Anna stood by her husband, daintily pinching her nose to ward off the smell of vomit. Spotting Elsa, the younger sister practically leapt into her arms, caring not about the sodden state of the Queen's attire.

"Elsa! Thank goodness! The storm was getting so strong... I was getting worried!"

The Queen's embrace tightened around her sister in relief. "I was thinking the same about you! Thank goodness you're safe and well!"

Anna smiled wryly. "Safe, yes. Well, not so much. Kristoff's never liked ships from the start, but I never remembered Annabeth to be so seasick!"  
The girl in question coughed weakly. "Hey, I've never been in a storm this bad before!" Annabeth retorted.

"Don't worry, Captain Edwards has the ship under control," Thomas reassured. "Things should be much calmer from now on."

Annabeth groaned. "Tell my stomach that." The girl put a hand to her mouth as her face suddenly grew a deeper shade of green.

"We may be wet, but at least the men on deck weren't vomiting everywhere," Elsa stated, surveying the room with hesitant eyes. With the smell of sick clogging his sinuses, Thomas couldn't help but agree. Anna slapped her sister on the shoulder.

"It's not their fault that they're seasick…"

Her words were interrupted by another wet retch from Kristoff, followed by a squelching sound as the remaining contents of the man's stomach made their way into the barrel. "Go to Corona, he said," Kristoff deadpanned, a sickly burp following his words. "I would _enjoy_ time abroad, he said..."

"We're not there yet, so you can't say anything!" Anna huffed, arms over her chest.

"Just at least tell me we're _almost_ there," Kristoff groaned. "I can't take this for much longer." The mountain man's stomach groaned with him.

Thomas slowly backed towards the door in trepidation, wide eyes fixed on his uncle's barrel. "OK! I'll go… ask the captain, then, shall I?"

"Hey, don't forget me!" Christopher exclaimed as he scrambled to follow his cousin.

"I shall be your escort!" Sir Gingivere quickly ushered the two cousins out of the room, closing the doors firmly behind them. Soon after, the trio burst out onto the deck of the _Albatross_, reveling in the fresh air, despite the heavy rain.

"I was about to be sick myself!" Christopher admitted, taking deep gulps of the clean ocean winds.

"Well, up here on deck was certainly no picnic, either! I was almost thrown off the ship when a wave hit!" Thomas grumbled.

"By the Lord, I should have been here to protect you!" Sir Gingivere exclaimed, hanging his head. "You could have been lost to the sea because of my negligence! I have failed my duty as your guardian!"

Thomas rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "Don't worry yourself. I'm certain they needed you far more below decks! Besides, I turned out fine, did I not?"

In spite of his master's words, the knight remained sullen, silently leading the two cousins up the stairs to the quarterdeck. Captain Edwards had not moved from his original position, presiding over the helm as always. Spotting the incoming trio, the captain gestured them over.

"Any of your mates hurt after that ordeal?" the sailor asked, sincere worry in his eyes.

"Our family turned out to be alright, though my uncle and cousin are suffering from severe seasickness from all the tossing and swaying," Thomas explained, Christopher nodding his affirmation beside him.

"That never could be helped, could it?" Captain Edwards shook his head. "Well, I've got some bad news for you lads. The storm might've taken us off course by quite a bit, and it'll probably be another three days, at the least, before we can reach Corona..." The captain paused abruptly, squinting intently out over the churning seas. "Then again, we won't know for sure until we can see the stars again," he murmured, a hand reaching for the spyglass on his belt.

"Bad news for Dad then," Christopher muttered. "We're gonna need a lot more barrels."

Thomas groaned, feigning a retch at his cousin. "Please, don't go into detail!"

A sudden, boisterous laugh had all eyes returning to the captain. The sailor had one eye screwed shut, the other fixated on the lens of his spyglass, an expression of uncontained joy and relief upon his features.

"Would you look at that?" the sailor cried in jubilation. Thomas' eyes wandered the horizon with confusion. What he saw took his breath away. In the distance, the dark skies were pierced by a radiant light, its rays like blades of vibrant gold slicing through the black clouds above. The young prince couldn't stop a laugh of relief from escaping his lips as well.

"Sick of the storm yet, lads?" Captain Edwards retracted his spyglass, giving his company a crooked smile. Christopher nodded vigorously, running back down the quarterdeck for the hatch.

"Dad'll _have_ to come up for this!" his excited voice drifted back.

Thomas stayed at his position beside the captain, the sun to his eyes like water to parched lips. He felt his coattails stirring with a soft wind. A cold wind. This time, it was Thomas who winked to the captain.

"You might want to hold on," he grinned, raising his hands in the air. The aged sailor raised an eyebrow quizzically. Thomas closed his eyes, reaching for ice, the well of wintry power within his soul. There was a crackling sound as frost crept across the deck, an arctic wind suddenly tousling the young prince's hair. Captain Edwards was laughing again.

"I like the way you think, lad! I keep forgetting, you're the Snow Queen's heir!" The captain let go of the wheel, gesturing to Thomas. "Could you hold this for a moment?" When he saw the uncertainty in the young prince's eyes, the captain chuckled. "Just for a moment, mind!"

Moving to the railing at the front of the quarterdeck, Captain Edwards raised his voice."_Down with the sails! Tighten up that top mizzen! We sail for the sun!_" The sailors on deck whirled into action, many cheering their now imminent escape from the storm. Amidst the commotion, Thomas could see the rest of the his family making their ascension onto the deck. Handing the helm back to the captain, the young prince skipped down to meet them, practically glowing with elation.

"We did it, Mother! We beat the storm!"

The Queen's hair had been tamed back into a simple (albeit slightly damp) braid, her dress significantly drier than before. She beamed at her son, a sparkle in her eyes.

"Well, we're not out _yet_," grumbled Kristoff, though even his demeanor was lightened by the sight of the sun. His wife, on the other hand, was already bouncing about.

"Aw, don't be such a downer! I'm sure we'll be out in no time!" Anna turned towards the helm, cupping her hands around her mouth. "_Right Captain Edwards?_"

A laugh drifted down from the quarterdeck. "_Ask your nephew!_"

All eyes were on Thomas now. With a mischievous grin, the young prince rubbed his hands together, flashes of icy magic flaring to life between his fingers.

"Are you ready?"

Annabeth nodded profusely, her mother clapping her hands together gleefully.

"Do it Tom, do the magic!" Christopher was almost jittering with excitement. Elsa simply stood in place, a smile playing about her lips, a faraway look on her features as if she were reminiscing of days past.

Thomas threw his arms out, palms open to the great sails of the ship. Tails of coats and hems of skirts billowed in the sudden wind. Delicate veins of ice crept up the masts, glittering cold and pure in the nearing sun, eliciting gasps of awe from sailors and guards alike. The white canvas stretched taut, wisps of snow drifting high on the breeze, the bow dipping and rising as the _Albatross_ sped across the waves.

Then, with the ocean spray mixing with the last drops of rain from the abating storm above, with the colours of dusk painting the sky with brilliant orange and purple, then the rapture of the high seas returned full force. In that moment, Thomas cared not for the destination. In that moment, he could have ridden the waves forever. Here was freedom. Here was _power_.

And with all certainty, the destination _would_ come.

* * *

_**Adventure on the high seas! I've been building up to this for so long that finally writing this chapter was actually a relief! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!**_

_**As always, REVIEWS are dear to me :)**_


	13. To Corona

_**Disclaimer: The universe of Frozen and Tangled does not belong to me.**_

* * *

**Chapter 13: To Corona**

The fact was, Warner Fitzherbert was not like his father. The King of Corona often complained about the tediousness and boredom of his royal duties, telling tales of high adventure from his days as Flynn Rider. It was quite obvious Eugene yearned for excitement in his life. His son, however, did not. Though he certainly loved the stories, that was all they were to Warner: stories. The Crown Prince of Corona considered himself a practical young man, with little fancy for such abstract notions as adventure and true love.

Indeed, such a belief was devastating to nearly every female Warner met; the prince was practically the spitting image of his father, bearing that signature _smoulder_ that had ladies fawning over him at every public occasion. To Eugene's endless surprise, however, his son came to prefer books over human company, and was much more drawn to hard politics than socialization. As the King and Queen danced in the public spotlight, the Crown Prince stayed deep in the palace, poring over written text from dawn until dusk.

Rapunzel was especially worried for her son. Having spent her entire youth in forced isolation, the Queen of Corona knew all too well the consequences of solitude. A thousand rules and political strategies would do nothing for Warner if he did not get out into the world. After all, people were _people_: living, thinking, _feeling_ creatures that were neither the monsters Rapunzel had been lead to believe, nor the machines an inexperienced politician may come to view them as. The truth was, people were complicated. The only way to reach a genuine understanding of them was through interaction.

With Warner's birthday on the horizon, the monarchs seized the opportunity. They sent invitations out to dignitaries from across Europe (even that squirrely Duke from, what was it, Weasel-Town?), and prepared long and extravagant festivities for their son's big day. Warner himself contributed little throughout the planning process, except to select the dishes to be presented at the buffet (chocolate was a _must_), and to attempt to shorten the total length of the party.

"Ma, it's not like this is my _coronation_ we're planning here!"

"Shh! Not a word! This is your _birthday_ and only the best is good enough!" Rapunzel flitted about the long table, pens and papers flying as she hastily scribbled notes, servants positioned off to the side, milling about idly.

"Ma, since it's _my_ birthday ceremony, shouldn't I get a say in it?" Warner asked. His mother seemed not to have heard him. Eugene patted his son on the shoulder.

"Just go with it, Warner. There's no reasoning with a woman when she's trying to plan a party." The King winked. "Trust me, I've had plenty of experience." Eugene turned back to his darling wife, who was trying to fit the tip back onto her evidently broken fountain pen, ink dribbling down her fingers. He groaned. "Blondie, we have _servants_ for a reason…" The King's sentence was cut short by a wet smack as the tongue of the little green chameleon on his shoulder made contact with his right ear. "Aah! Pascal! Even after all these years!?" Pascal phased to a deep demonic red, seeming to grin slyly.

The preparations were made. The Captain of the Guards arranged for lookouts to be posted on all the highest towers of the palace weeks in advance of the actual festivities. All that was left now was to wait. As the weeks became days, Warner found himself joining the guards up at the tower, vying for a glimpse of gleaming sails on the horizon. Though he nervousness was a trait rarely attributed to the Crown Prince of Corona, the imminent arrival of the foreign dignitaries still sent jitters up his spine. What if the representatives saw little potential in him? What if they didn't approve of the future King?

Thus, this afternoon found Warner standing beside the Captain atop the parapets, scrutinizing the orange sea for distant masts. The soldier broke his rigid posture, turning towards the Crown Prince, the light glinting off the man's plumed helmet, making it seem as if the miniature sun inscribed upon the golden metal were truly shining of its own accord. The Captain leveled a hard stare at his charge.

"Your Highness, you've been coming up here day after day. Though getting to know the great outdoors would certainly do you some good, staring at the ocean for hours on end was not exactly what I had in mind." The man raised a thick eyebrow in question. Warner took a deep breath.

"Sir, have you ever had doubts about your… ability? Whether or not you were _good enough_ for your position?" When the Captain folded his muscular arms in front of him, eyes squinted angrily at the prince, Warner hastily raised his hands. "Alright! That came out the wrong way!" The prince sighed. "It's just that, well, these guests to my birthday festival…"

"Well, what about them?" asked the Captain's gruff voice.

"These guests are dignitaries from nations across Europe, sir!" Warner finally burst. "Serious, powerful people! I am the future King of Corona, and what these dignitaries see in me may very well affect our kingdom's standing in the world! What if they deem me _unworthy_ of being a leader? What if they find me hopelessly naive, or clumsy, or…"

"Now, stop right there! Is _that_ what has gotten you in such a fuss?" The Captain bent down to place a firm hand on the shoulder of his charge, face now bearing gentle compassion. "Son, you have no idea how many times I have asked myself those questions. I grew up on the streets, you know that? Raised by an impoverished mother, father long dead or gone. When I was old enough, I trained to be a guard because it was the only decent way to earn enough money to feed my little family. Who knew that one day, I would rise to become the _Captain of the Guards_?"

The soldier patted Warner reassuringly. "Highness, you are _far_ from unworthy. You were _raised_ for this! If I, a lowly urchin, could one day be trusted with the lives of the monarchy, imagine the things you are destined for!" The Captain drew himself up once more, towering a full head over his charge. "Mark my words, Highness, it is not you who should be afraid of them; it is they who should be afraid of you!"

Warner was taken aback by the Captain's words. Was he really underestimating himself by that much? But the Captain had yet to finish.

"If you don't believe me, just look at your father! The infamous Flynn Rider, come to renounce his ways, and by marrying the Crown Princess to boot!" The soldier chuckled heartily. "If fact, that was how I got my promotion to Captain in the first place. The previous Captain had resigned when the thief he swore to bring to justice became his King!" The Captain leaned in conspiratorially. "Though rumor has it that Maximus took over that man's post for a while, before I did," he whispered.

That had the Crown Prince laughing, in spite of everything. The Captain thumped his charge on the back, a grin lightening the man's usually heavy demeanor.

"There's the young prince I know! When it comes down to it, Highness, it's _your_ birthday party. Don't be nervous, don't worry! Just enjoy it!"

Warner smiled gratefully up at the soldier. "I'll try my best, sir."

The Captain smiled back. "Alek. Just Alek is fine."

The two turned their eyes back out over the great waters, the sea going from orange to red as the sun neared the horizon. A horizon that was penetrated by the distinct white squares of faraway sails.

Warner squinted at the approaching ship blearily, then did a double take, whirling to Alek in an anxious blur. "A ship! There is a ship inbound!"

"Woah there, hold your horses!" The Captain's heavy hand stopped the prince's nervous frenzy, holding Warner firmy to the ground. With a reproachful look, Alek took the small spyglass from his belt, squinting through at the nearing sails. The ship itself was of an unremarkable size, an aged brigantine of two masts, powering steadily through the waves. A dark insignia was emblazoned upon the fading white canvas: an eagle digging its talons into the back of a great serpent, who was in turn coiling around its adversary.

Warner jostled Alek, vying for a glimpse of the inbound vessel. "Well, who is it? Which kingdom?"

The soldier's expression turned sour. "That ship comes from no _kingdom_, Highness. It hails from the Duchy of Weselton."

* * *

The Kingdom of Corona gleamed in the sunlight of its namesake. The palace, the village, and the mountain streams all shone with the glittering gold of dusk, seemingly imbued with a haze of content languor. From the shops came forth the delicious aromas of roasting meats and freshly baked bread, drifting on the warm summer wind. Such was the picture-perfect panorama visible from the prow of the _Swiftwater_ as it cruised slowly into port, sails billowing grandly in the last of the onshore breeze.

Alas, such magnificent beauty was largely lost upon the Duke of Weselton. The moustached man's greedy, bespectacled eyes saw only the palace, and the treasury he knew was within. Already, schemes were whirring to life within the Duke's mind. First, he would gain the friendship of the monarchy, learning their true reasons behind sustaining trade with Weselton in the process. The Duke suspected he held a certain commodity that was precious to Corona, and finding it would give him an edge that would be invaluable for creating permanently binding, "mutually beneficial" agreements between Weselton and Corona.

"Your Grace, we have made port." The annoyingly familiar voice of Captain Moore brought the Duke back to the present. Giving the man a withering glare, the Duke drew himself up to his full (unimpressive) height, smoothing back his toupee with both hands. Wouldn't want history to repeat itself.

"Have the men lower the gangplank, then!" Without another word, the Duke turned on his heel, strutting stiffly to centre deck. "Guards, to me!" he commanded, his voice of a higher pitch than he would have liked.

Immediately, there came the sound of many boots on deck as the Ducal Guard took up position around their charge. Straightening himself even more, the Duke of Weselton stepped onto the gangplank, his guards a sea of dark crimson as they marched behind him in unison.

With the clop of hooves on pavement, a golden rider atop a great white steed rode gallantly out onto the harbour, followed by nearly a score of mounted guards in the same garb. The faces of a dozen radiant suns glared fiercely from the plated armour of the men, the symbol of the Royal Guard of Corona. The Duke's receiving party had arrived.

"Welcome and salutations from the Land of the Sun! Am I correct in my assumption that you are His Grace, the Duke of Weselton?" The leading guard extended a hand of welcome. The Duke took it carefully, giving a slight shake before quickly removing his hand from the man's grasp.

"Your presumptions are quite correct. I am indeed the Duke of Weselton, and these men behind me are my Ducal Guard." The Duke gave a little pirouette, ending off with a flourishing bow. There was a quiet sliding sound, followed by poorly-concealed laughter from many of the Royal Guard. The Duke stood erect once more, silently cursing as his toupee fell back into place with an ungainly flop. Clearing his throat, he continued with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Ahem! We come to your Kingdom of Corona in peaceful attendance of His Highness the Crown Prince Warner Fitzherbert's birthday ceremonies. I apologize for our rather early arrival, but we did not know what the sea would throw at us during our travels." The men of the receiving party had already recomposed themselves, faces solemn once more. The lead guard nodded.

"Worry not, Your Grace! I'm sure we can fit you and your men somewhere within the palace grounds. Come! I'm sure you are quite tired and famished from your long journey." With that, the leader's horse fixed its surprisingly intelligent stare upon the Duke, nostrils flaring as if in warning, before turning and racing its rider back towards the distant palace.

The Duke couldn't help but notice how quickly the rest of the Royal Guards surrounded him and his men, flanking them with expressionless faces and military precision. The entourage made their way through the streets, steadily moving for the palace. All the while, inferences and plans were flitting through the Duke's mind like agitated wasps._ I seem to be the first guest to arrive._ _The King and Queen obviously have little trust in me, considering the number of guards they sent. However, though the other guests should be arriving soon, at the moment I am the only one._

_An opportunity._

* * *

"Land ho!"

The excited cry from the crow's nest had the entirety of the royal family racing to the prow, scrutinizing the horizon for a glimpse of their destination. The listing sea rolled unbroken into the distance, meeting seamlessly with the cloudless sky above, revealing not a speck of green amidst the ocean blue. Nevertheless, Thomas squinted out as far as his eyes could reach. There! He could just make out a faint shimmer upon the blurry horizon, a triangular shape slowly detaching itself from the waves below...

A wayward gust of wind momentarily redirected the young prince's attention. Turning, Thomas witnessed the exact moment his mother's long braid flew into contact with his aunt's freckled face. Anna frantically tried to blow the hair away from her eyes, eventually settling for taking the offending braid and simply throwing it back at Elsa. Unfortunately, the wind blew on, leading to the younger sister being slapped a second time, to the utter amusement of the onlookers.

"Hey!" Anna's exclamation uncorked the bottle of mirth, gaffaws erupting from all around.

"Well, I was about to pull my hair up in a bun this morning, but you insisted for me to keep it this way," Elsa giggled. "You truly have no one to blame but yourself!" At this, Anna's lower lip jutted out in a pout unbecoming of her age.

"You always told me never to pout, Mother!" Annabeth laughed. "You said it's _unflattering_ of a proper lady!"

Suddenly, the wind changed direction, throwing Anna's double braids in _Elsa's_ direction. The younger sister's look of triumph died down, however, when she realized her hair was barely long enough to reach the Queen's nose.

"You need a good wash when we reach port, sister! Your hair smells like seaweed!"

The hearty, musical laughter of royals carried upon the ocean breeze, bringing a warm tone of joy to the deck of the _Albatross_. In the blissful atmosphere, a knot unwound itself in Thomas' heart; a knot he had not known existed. The high seas were a place of rapture and adventure, but a place fraught with danger nonetheless. Now that his destination was in sight, a great relief washed over the young prince, and his face broke into a jubilant smile.

"Ah, I'm so glad to finally be _making_ port," Christopher sighed. "That storm really had me worried!"

At that, Elsa's expression grew somber, dark thoughts of what might have been evidently flashing behind her eyes. Anna placed a soft hand on her sister's, unfazed by its temperature. "We made it, Elsa. We beat the storm, together. Cheer up! We can't have the people of Corona seeing your frowny face."

That had the Queen chuckling through her tears. "We can't have the people of Corona seeing you in your grimy state either, Anna. Right now you look more like a pirate than a princess!"

"Well, you're not exactly presentable either, sister. Speak for yourself!" Anna huffed, her nose held high.

With a cocked eyebrow, Elsa raised her arms in a graceful sweeping motion. Vibrant blue tendrils of magic flowed across her body, transforming the teal fabric of her clothes into a long glittering dress of ice. Below the Queen's feet, fractal patterns grew into an enormous snowflake, turning the entire forecastle into an ice rink as the deck glazed over. When she finally lowered her hands, Elsa was greeted with an awed silence. Indeed, she had become quite the sight to behold. There she stood, tall and regal, at the centre of a great snowflake, wearing a beautiful icy dress of her own creation, bathed in morning light as if even the sun were transfixed by her. At that moment, she was beyond definition. She was ethereal. She was the Snow Queen.

She also had just utterly trumped her sister.

The still air was broken by Kristoff's panicked shout. His sea legs wobbly and unreliable (even after a good two weeks at sea), the mountain man lost his footing upon the slippery ice, falling on his rump in an undignified heap. Ever the gentleman, Sir Gingivere quickly moved to Kristoff's side, helping the man back to his feet with strong hands. Elsa gasped, a hand to her mouth to staunch her laughter.

"Oh! Kristoff!" With a slight wave, the ice sublimated away from underneath everyone's feet. The Queen turned back to her family, a sheepish and slightly apologetic smile upon her lips. "Sorry. Spur of the moment, and I let it go…"

That had Anna laughing anew. "Oh, Elsa! I'm sure Tom has 'let it go' a _lot_ more than you this trip! It was about time, anyway!"

Thomas rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "Hey, Chris wanted me to 'do the magic'."

The older cousin laughed. "That I did!"

With that, the royal family gazed back out towards the nearing kingdom in the distance.

It was then that Thomas felt a cold, familiar hand grip his shoulder. He looked up to see Sir Gingivere standing beside him, head bowed as if in apology. In regret and self-hatred the knight had wallowed, ever since his alleged "failure" to protect his master from the wrath of the storm. Thomas grasped his creation's hand in his own.

"Hey. What happened out there wasn't your fault. I'm still here, alive and well, am I not? You have not failed me as a guardian."

Sir Gingivere shook his head slowly, beginning to pull away from his master and charge. However, Thomas wasn't about to let the good knight punish himself again. "Sir Gingivere, look at me." When his words failed to yield the desired effect, the young prince threw a bolt of magic at the knight's feet, a jagged barrier of ice stopping Sir Gingivere in his tracks.

"_Look at me!_ You are so much more than just my creation now! You've become a part of the family. You've become my _mentor_ in many ways!" Thomas looked straight at Sir Gingivere, into the void where he knew the knight's eyes would have been, hands firmly gripping his friend's icy shoulders. "But, most of all, you have become a dear friend. You did not fail me, Sir Gingivere. There is no way that you could _ever_ fail me. Understood?"

The knight stood unmoving under his master's grasp, as if he were naught but a statue of ice. After an age, the expressionless helmet finally gave the faintest of tilts.

"If you so insist, Master Thomas."

Thomas exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his body as he did so. The wall behind Sir Gingivere faded away in a breath of mist. The young prince held out his hand to the knight. "To Corona, Sir Gingivere?"

A pause. There was the clinking of icy armour plates sliding past one another as Sir Gingivere moved his arm. There was the cool feel of hard ice on Thomas' skin as the knight took the young prince's hand. A pact of courage. Sir Gingivere was "the Lionhearted" once more.

"To Corona, Master Thomas."

* * *

When the second ship crested the horizon, Warner was at the window of his room. Still in his bedclothes, the Crown Prince scrambled through his drawers for the spyglass he had stored there in case of such an event. Strewing baubles and papers about the floor in his haste, Warner returned to his window, his eye already pressed to the lens of his spyglass.

This ship was larger, a galleon with three great square-rigged masts. The symbol upon the canvas was considerably simpler than the last: a golden, three-petaled flower, seeming to glow in the light of dawn. _The Crocus of Arendelle!_ Recognition dawned on Warner, even as the rest of his knowledge about the faraway kingdom surfaced in his mind. _The royalty of Arendelle are cousins_, the prince remembered. _Their Crown Prince is my… second cousin, was it?_ _And what of those stories, the Eternal Winter, the Frozen Heart, the Snow Queen? Myths, surely._

However, what Warner observed next had his jaw hanging slack, swinging like a pendulum beneath his dumbfounded face. Even through the blurry lens of his spyglass, the prince could clearly see a massive, glittering snowflake appear on the front deck of the inbound ship. Warner jerked back from the window, rubbing his eyes profusely. What had he just seen? When he squinted back through the spyglass, the snowflake was already fading away from the deck, soon gone altogether. Had he imagined it?

Retracting the spyglass, the Crown Prince made for his wardrobe. One thing was certain. The Snow Queen had come.

* * *

_**Thus, the pieces are set upon the board. The game is about to begin.**_

_**A shoutout to **__**WhatNames**__** for her devotion and help since the beginning of this wonderful endeavour! I tip my hat to you!**_

_**REVIEWS PLEASE! I'm especially interested in feedback in the following areas:**_

_**1. Was there any part of the story that made you want to STOP reading? Where, and, most importantly, why?**_

_**2. How are my OC's? Do any of them need further character development?**_

_**3. Is the plot NATURAL and BELIEVABLE thus far (i.e: is there anywhere where you thought "Why would he/she do that?")?**_

_**Lastly, a great big THANK YOU for reading! It means a lot to me :3**_


	14. Meetings and Reunions

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tangled and Frozen. Not even their DVDs. It's sad, really.**_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Meetings and Reunions**

The land of Corona loomed high over the _Albatross_, shining brightly in the white morning sun. The shadows of the masts grew gradually shorter as the galleon approached port, its wake the only disturbance in the calm, turquoise waters of the nearing harbour. Thomas leaned over the gunwale, taking in the new scenery with wide eyes.

This truly was the Land of the Sun! The light shone with so much more _fervour_ here, the very air seeming thick and palpable, ablaze in the summer heat. There was an _aura_ to this kingdom, something alight in the atmosphere, something that wasn't present in his homeland of Arendelle. Thomas couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there; in the village houses, in the soaring palace parapets, in the very water beneath the bow. Something that lifted his spirits, singing of cheer and prosperity with many voices.

There was the sound of footsteps on deck as Christopher appeared by Thomas' side, leaning forward with his elbows up on the railing. The young prince smiled crookedly at his cousin.

"Where's Mother gone?" he asked.

Christopher shrugged. "With _my_ mother, I'll bet. They've got to get the guards sorted, and all that."

Thomas laughed. "Since when did Aunt Anna concern herself with duties like that?"

His cousin laughed as well. "Well, the fact of the matter is, I think my dear Mum just can't be bested _your_ mother again!"

Thomas shook his head, chuckling. There was a moment of silence between the two princes as they gazed out at their rapidly approaching destination. Suddenly, movement on the shore caught Thomas' attention. Even from his vantage at the prow, the young prince could espy an entourage of men in golden armour slowly making their way through the steep village streets, moving down towards the harbour. Amidst the guards walked three figures, their white attire a stark contrast to the gold of the men around them. Two were clad in pristine suits with golden trim; the other, evidently a woman, wearing a flowing pearl dress that sparkled in the sun. The light glinted off of something else as well, a shape imbedded in the lady's short hair. A tiara.

"Look, it's the Queen!" Christopher's excited shout had Annabeth and Sir Gingivere rushing over as well.

"What, the Queen? Where!" Annabeth ran to the railing, scouring the harbour with searching eyes.

"Right there!" The younger brother pointed excitedly to the entourage moving out from the village.

Sir Gingivere seemed quite flustered at the sight. "Are we to be in the presence of the Coronan royalty? Oh, dear me! I am quite underdressed!"

Thomas refrained from rolling his eyes at the knight. "Sir Gingivere, you are a _suit of armour_. You have no clothes to change into! Besides, I doubt anything will make much of a difference. You are going to be cause for great… surprise, let's put it that way, no matter what you do. At the end of the day, you're still a walking, talking man of ice, and unless the people of Corona are used to things like that, just be prepared for a lot of screaming."

The knight paused, then shrugged. A halfhearted laugh emanated from his helmet. "I am sad to say, I have grown used to the screams of those who behold me."

Mentally slapping himself, the young prince turned slowly back to the knight, apology written upon his features. "Alright, I didn't mean it like _that_…"

"What else could be the outcome? You are completely correct. There _will_ be screaming. Someone may even fall off the pier." Suddenly, the knight began chuckling heartily. "But such is my existence. Such is how it always will be! Oh, Master Thomas, you need not apologize on my behalf!"

Thomas grinned in relief. Olaf was simply too carefree to be affected by people's initial fear of him, but the young prince knew how deep such experiences had cut Sir Gingivere. Looking the knight up and down, a mischievous glint returned to the young prince's eye. "Since screaming rather hurts my ears, why not strike the people dumb with awe instead?" Sir Gingivere tilted his head in question. Thomas simply winked.

Pressing his hand to the knight's chest, the young prince tuned in to his elemental power. He could _feel_ every piece of armour, every line and contour, as surely as he felt his own limbs. With that feeling, with that control, Thomas set to work. He was not the artist his mother was, but when one practically embodied winter, there are certain aspects that became almost second nature.

Thus, patterns of frost appeared upon the translucent surfaces of the knight's armour in delicate swirls, twisting across Sir Gingivere's body like wintry vines with snowflakes in place of grapes. At the knight's hip grew a scabbard, and within it Thomas' infamous sword, gleaming cold and deadly in the summer sun. Upon Sir Gingivere's back, a sheet of ice shaped itself into a shield. With a final flourish from the young prince, the crocus of Arendelle etched itself upon the knight's breastplate.

Alas, all was for naught if Thomas could not make the ice permanent. Closing his eyes, the young prince reached deep within, for the very source of his powers. Though he had seen his mother perform such magic on several occasions, he himself had never attempted it before. Perspiration beading on his forehead, he concentrated on channelling the magic through his fingers, willing a piece of the ice within to transfer into the knight. There was a flash, accompanied by an abrupt drop in temperature. When Thomas finally removed his hand, the knight stayed frozen, not a bead of meltwater forming upon the ice even in the blazing summer sun.

"Wow…" Christopher and Annabeth breathed in unison, staring at the Sir Gingivere's new armour in awe. The knight looked himself over tentatively, his embarrassment evident even given his lack of facial expression.

"Well, I seem to have achieved the desired effect!" Thomas laughed weakly, sagging with fatigue. "You two couldn't have looked more awestruck if I'd made Sir Gingivere fly!"

"Can you do that?" Annabeth asked excitedly. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"Well, let's see, I control the _ice_. Anna, my dear sister, tell me, have you ever seen ice in any form _fly_ before?" the young prince deadpanned.

"Hey, anything is possible with magic…" Christopher piped.

"When you actually _have_ magic, you quickly realize that is not the case," Thomas stated.

_Thud. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp._ The cousins turned to see the Queen and Princess Anna walking up the deck, Kristoff at their side, a small army of Royal Guards in tow. Elsa still wore her dress of ice, apparently of the same mindset as her son. Let them see the Snow Queen in all her glory. She would conceal no more.

From the helm came the command of the captain. "_Hoist the sails! Steady as she goes…_"

"Are we ready?" Elsa looked everyone over, giving a double take when her eyes finally settled upon Sir Gingivere. "Wait, Thomas, did you do this?"

The young prince groaned. "Making the ice last is a lot more tiring than you let on, Mother!"

The Queen made straight for the frozen knight, unsheathing Thomas' sword in one swift, angry motion. "And what's this! A sword? Thomas we talked about this!"

The young prince held up his hands. "I know, I know! It's purely for decoration..."

But before the words had even left his lips, Sir Gingivere had already kneeled at Elsa's feet. "Master Thomas is my friend and my charge, and I shall protect him with my very existence. Your Majesty, I swear, on my honour, that I shall never use that blade unless in times of dire need." At this, the knight stared straight into the Snow Queen's eyes. "But, know this. For any who may attempt to harm my master should fear my bitter vengeance! On this, I vow!"

The Queen blinked. Thomas stood in place, taken aback by Sir Gingivere's words, waiting for his mother's reply with baited breath. Slowly, oh so slowly, Elsa took a firm grip of the sword, directing the blade downwards in an icy cross.

"Such vows are not to be made lightly, Sir Gingivere. Do you swear, on oath, to protect my son? To put his life before your own?"

"Yes, Majesty." There was no hesitation.

"Then I grant you possession of this blade. May you use it well." Elsa turned the sword to hold its hilt out to Sir Gingivere. Ceremoniously, she lowered the blade into the knight's outstretched hands. With startling precision, the knight sheathed his sword, the ice ringing as it slid into the scabbard.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Turning to her son, Elsa fixed Thomas with a reprimanding look. "No more weapons, understood?"

The young prince nodded, hands clasped behind his back, what he hoped to be an innocent smile on his face.

"Um, Elsa…" Anna was trying to get her sister's attention, a finger pointing out past the forecastle.

"What?"

"We're…" Anna's sentence was cut short by Captain Edwards' shout.

"_Release the anchors!_"

The clicking of the falling chains was accompanied by a sudden lurch as the _Albatross_ slowed to a halt.

"...here!" the younger sister finished, albeit lately.

* * *

As Warner walked to the harbour, all he could think about was how stuffy his damned suit was. He had begged his parents to let him wear a simple summer tunic, but alas the monarchs would have none of it. He was the Crown Prince, after all, and so had to look his best. Even if looking his best meant slowly melting in the blazing summer heat.

The cobbled street beneath his feet gave way to the smoother stone slabs of the port. Drifting across the clear waters, growing steadily closer, was the shape of the Arendellian vessel, its sails already hoisted up. Warner could see guards already standing in formation upon the deck of the ship, as well as the shapes of two older women and several younger people at the forecastle. The royal family?

Warner's thoughts returned to the legends he'd heard of Arendelle. If the Queen of Arendelle truly did have ice powers, she wasn't using them, at least in any way that he could see. Then again, there were always those who feared magic, so perhaps the Queen didn't want to attract unwanted attention. Or perhaps she simply hadn't come?

There was a soft thud as the hull of the ship grazed the side of the port. Up close, Warner could make out the name of the great vessel inscribed on the lacquered wood.

"Ah, the _Albatross_," his mother murmured. "I remember seeing that ship moored in the harbour when we traveled to Arendelle all those years ago."

"I wonder if that Kristoff character has come to visit," his father mused. "He got really well with Maximus last time. Better than me, even!"

"That may be because Maximus spent half his life chasing after you, dear," Rapunzel giggled.

"Hey, I don't blame him. Even horses can't resist my _smoulder_." Eugene wagged his eyebrows, receiving a playful slap from his wife.

The King of Corona proceeded to face his entourage. "Well, who's going to raise the gangplank, fellas?" The guards took it as a command, and rushed to complete the order. With the help of the deckhands aboard the ship, the men tied down the thick mooring ropes, securing a massive wooden staircase to the side of the hull.

The first person to step off the _Albatross_ was a man in a grey uniform embroidered with the crest of Arendelle, a matching grey shako atop his head; a member of the Royal Guard. Three other identically dressed guards stepped down the gangplank in quick succession, standing stiffly to attention at the foot of the staircase.

Then, a woman appeared above the railing, practically bouncing down the wooden stairs with a spirit that didn't quite match her age. Her strawberry-blonde hair was in double braids, flying behind her shoulders as she ran straight for the Queen of Corona.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess..."

The Arendellian guard never had a chance to finish his proclamation as the princess in question collided into Rapunzel in a tight embrace.

"And hello to you, too, Anna!" the Queen of Corona laughed. "How's my cousin been all these years?"

"Oh, it's been _great!_ My two kids are all grown up now, and Elsa's had a son as well!"

"Yes, we'd heard. Or rather, read, from the piles of letters you keep sending us," Eugene commented.

"Presenting His Highness, Kristoff Bjorgman of Arendelle!"

A large, burly man descended from the ship, a sheepish, slightly shy smile on his face. "I didn't realize my official title was so long…"

"And that's without the "Ice Master and Deliverer" bit," Anna chimed.

"Don't remind me," groaned Kristoff.

"Bjorgman!" The King held his hand out to the ice harvester. "It's been a while!"

Kristoff took the hand with a firm grip of his own. "Certainly has!"

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Annabeth Bjorgman of Arendelle!"

This was evidently the daughter of Princess Anna and Kristoff. The girl's hair matched her mother's, and she seemed of a similar nature, shifting from foot to foot under the gaze of the Coronans.

"Um, hi!" Annabeth gave her audience a tentative wave.

"Wow, has it really been that long?" Rapunzel exclaimed. "When we last saw you, you were this adorable thing that I could hold in one arm! Now look at you! A beautiful young lady if I've ever seen one!"

Annabeth blushed slightly at the compliments.

"Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Christopher Bjorgman of Arendelle!"

Anna's second child seemed to be bolder, marching down the steps with confidence. He gave a slight bow to the Coronans.

"Hello!"

"You too? Why, you were barely _this_ big…" Rapunzel's excited voice was cut off by her husband.

"Blondie, I think you may be creeping the kids out..." Eugene shrank slightly under his wife's scolding glare. "...just a little?" he finished timidly.

"Presenting Her Majesty the Queen, Elsa of Arendelle!"  
At this, Warner perked up. So the Queen _had_ come. When she finally came down from the ship, there was no mistaking who Elsa was. She walked with a regality testament to her years in the public eye, seeming to glide down the staircase, arms clasped before her, head held high and straight. Her ice blue gaze was resolute and unwavering.

But that was not what caught Warner's attention. The prince was all too captivated by the dress the queen wore. It was a deep, clear blue, iridescent in the morning light. The fabric seemed to be comprised of fine crystals, glittering as they caught the rays of the sun. A long train trailed from the bodice, one embellished with patterns of snow and frost. Coupled with the queen's stark platinum hair, her pale white skin, and the inexplicably _cool_ air about her, and Warner's curiosity sparked anew. Could Elsa truly wield the power of winter?

The Queen of Arendelle greeted the Coronans with a deep, elaborate courtesy. However, Rapunzel would have none of the formality. With a knowing nod from Anna, the Queen of Corona took a flying leap at Elsa, almost knocking the other queen over with a fierce hug.

"You came!" Rapunzel exclaimed gleefully.

"I made you a promise, didn't I?" Elsa smiled.

"Ooh, where's the little Crown Prince?"

"Well, Thomas isn't so _little_ any more…"

"Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle!"

"Here he comes!" Anna laughed. But there was no movement from the deck of the _Albatross_.

"_Thomas?_" Elsa called.

A platinum-blonde head appeared above the railing of the ship, peering out at the assembled crowd through slate-grey eyes. _So this is the Crown Prince of Arendelle_, Warner thought. The boy did have a striking resemblance to his mother, even apart from his startling platinum hair. Standing there in a navy blue suit, Thomas certainly looked the part of a Crown Prince, stiff and regal. But why wasn't he coming down?

"C'mon Thomas, don't be shy!" Eugene teased.

"Oh, it's not me I'm afraid for…" Thomas replied. The boy slowly began his descent from the ship, seeming more uneasy with every step. He finally made it down to the shore, bowing deeply to the Coronans.

"Pleased to finally meet you all! Before we go any further, I would like to ask a question. You've all met Olaf before, right?"

"Oh, did Olaf come, too?" Rapunzel answered excitedly.

Thomas seemed to wince slightly. "Actually, no. But you _have_ met him, right?"

"Who's Olaf?" The instant the words left his mouth, Warner regretted them. Now everyone was staring at him.

"Ah, how could I forget to introduce my own son?" Eugene gestured grandly towards Warner. "Ahem! Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Warner Fitzherbert of Corona!"

"Eugene! You can't announce your own son! We have people for that!"

"Dearest Rapunzel, I am the King and can do what I want. Now, where were we again?"

"Oh, right, Olaf! Warner, dear, haven't we told you stories about him?" Rapunzel looked to her son in question.

"Wait… is this Olaf the Snowman we're talking about here!?" Warner asked incredulously. "But Mother, he's a fairy tale! A bedtime story for infants! Are you telling me Olaf is real?"

"Oh, he's real all right!" Christopher quipped. "And he certainly loves his warm hugs!"

Warner's head was spinning. "So, the stories are all true, then?" Before he could stop himself, he turned excitedly to Queen Elsa. "You really are the Snow Queen? You truly have ice powers?"

Elsa gave a tinkling laugh. "Well, Warner, what do you think my dress is made out of? I thought it would have been obvious enough."

"That's all _ice?_" The Crown Prince of Corona stared, slack-jawed.

The clearing throat of the _other_ crown prince shook Warner back to the present.

"So, is it safe to say that none of you are going to run around in circles screaming your heads off if I, hypothetically, showed you a live… snowman?" Thomas asked.

"These guards are trained to the highest level of bravery and integrity. There will be no screaming, I assure you," Eugene stated solemnly.

Thomas nodded, seemingly satisfied. The boy turned back in the direction of the _Albatross_. "Sir Gingivere! You can come down now!"

There was the ominous thudding of heavy footsteps, slowly increasing in volume as the one to whom the feet belonged to moved closer to the railing of the ship. A glimmering blue head crested the gunwale; the visored helmet of a knight, made completely of ice. Only, there was no _face_ behind that visor…

"_AAAAAAAHHHHH!_"

One of the Coronan guards broke rank and ran frantically in the other direction, arms pinwheeling in his panic. Unfortunately for him, that particular section of dock was but a slim protrusion into the bay, and the man tripped from the pier and flew into headfirst into the sea with a mighty splash. The other guards quickly ran to fish their fellow man from the water. The King of Corona blinked.

"Well! It seems I spoke too soon!"

"That's no… bloody… snowman! That's... a_ monster!_" shouted the rescued guard, coughing up seawater all the while, fear showing clearly in his eyes as he was pulled back onto the dock. Others in the ranks of guards began to murmur their assent to their comrade's statement. Thomas winced noticeably this time, and Eugene's palm made for his face.

Suddenly, a new voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Well, excuse me! I'll have you know that I am a distinguished gentleman of knightly stature!" A hushed silence fell over the assembled crowd as the icy suit of armour stepped off the ship, its every step a low clank on the wooden steps of the gangplank.

"It speaks?" choked out the first guard. One could almost _hear_ Thomas' eyes roll.

With a final, decisive thud, the knight of ice set foot upon the dock. There it stood for a moment, presumably surveying its audience. Warner couldn't help but shiver at the sight of the expressionless sentinel. How was that Thomas so at ease around the living statue? With no no eyes, no face, you would never know it was watching you, never know it was even _alive_ until it was upon you…

But to Warner's endless surprise, the suit of armour then initiated a deep, sweeping bow. That voice came again, that pleasant, gentlemanly sound that suddenly made the frozen figure seem a whole lot less menacing.

"Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I am Sir Gingivere the Lionhearted, Guardian of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Thomas, and servant of Her Majesty, Queen Elsa." The knight straightened himself once more, doffing an imaginary hat to the Coronans. "How do you do?"

One would not have been surprised to hear crickets chirping in the silence that followed.

The Queen of Corona was the first to recover. "Welcome to Corona, Sir Gingivere!" she replied cheerily. "I'm very sorry about our… bad reception, but we do hope you enjoy your stay!"

At this, Rapunzel glared at the still-sodden guard pointedly. One of the man's comrades nudged him on the shoulder with reproach. The guard glanced to Sir Gingivere nervously.

"Ahem! 'Pologies for my screaming, sir." He swallowed audibly. "I was just… frightened, is all."

"All is forgiven, good man. It was nothing I had not experienced before," said the knight of ice.

To everyone's surprise, Thomas slowly began to chuckle. "What did you say, Sir Gingivere? 'Someone may even fall off the pier'?" The boy's laughs became uncontrollable gaffaws. "Oh, how right you were!" After a few moments, Christopher and Annabeth began laughing as well, the light and carefree sound like balm to everyone's frayed nerves.

Down the gangplank marched the rest of the Arendellian Royal Guard, their deep grey uniforms contrasting with the bright gold of their Coronan counterparts.

"Is that everyone?" Rapunzel asked. Anna nodded.

"Yep! _Unless Captain Edwards wants to join us!_" The strawberry-haired woman directed the second statement in the direction of the helm of the _Albatross_.

"_I've got quite enough to do here, but thanks for the offer!_" came the faraway reply.

Anna turned back to her cousin. "Well! That's that, then!"

The King of Corona formally extended a hand to the Queen of Arendelle. "Your Majesty, I welcome you and your family to our beautiful kingdom." Turning to the rest of the Arendellians, Eugene grinned. "Welcome to Corona, everybody!"

* * *

_**Thanks for reading, everyone! Drop a REVIEW, and I will be quite happy indeed!**_


	15. Time Abroad

_**Disclaimer: My puny hands are far insufficient for holding ownership of either Frozen or Tangled**_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Time Abroad**

The Duke of Weselton was not happy. Three days he had sat in his allotted room in the palace of Corona, mouldering in the sweltering heat of high summer. Three days he had been shadowed wherever he went by the Coronan Royal Guard, the men seeming to observe his every move with scrutinous suspicion. Three days, and he was still no closer to gaining an audience with the Coronan monarchs than when he had first set foot upon the dock.

_One key piece on the board is almost within my grasp, though._ The one good that could change his fate; the mysterious commodity to which he owed his entire trade relationship with Corona. The Duke leaned back in his chair, scratching his moustache in thought. Now that he rationalized, there was only one thing it _could_ be. Not lumber; the Kingdom of Corona was bordered by deep forest. Not tea; there were so many other nations that shipped it. No, it could only be coal.

The Duchy of Weselton sat atop one of the continent's largest underground stores of the black fuel. Indeed, the Duke's predecessors had bought the land for the sole purpose of harvesting the coal that lay beneath. Such ready access to fuel was Weselton's saving grace in the harsh winter a decade ago. Now, it could be the key to the nation's return to power.

_I just need a way to turn this knowledge to my advantage…_

The Duke's musings were cut short by an insistent knocking on the door of his room.

"Who is it!" he yelled.

"It's Philipp, Your Grace." The Ducal Guard's gruff voice came muffled by the wood of the door.

"You had better have a good reason for disturbing me!" the Duke growled.

"The royal family of Arendelle has made port!"

"_What?!_" The Duke sprang to the door, yanking the guard into his room and swiftly slamming the door shut again. After making certain they were not being overheard, he grabbed hold of the front of the man's uniform, shaking the guard back and forth.

"Are you absolutely certain?" he hissed. "Speak up!"

"The ship… flies the crocus… Your Grace!" the guard choked out in between shakes. The Duke abruptly let go, sending Philipp toppling to the ground in a flustered heap.

Paying his guard little heed, the Duke began to pace the floor in frustration. How could he have forgotten! Those accursed Arendellians would certainly come to their own cousin's birthday ceremony! What if the wretched sorceress herself was here? He would have no chance at all with gaining a foothold on Corona's politics with Queen Elsa's influence added to the mix. Thoughts of coal cast aside for the moment, the Duke rounded furiously back to his guard.

"Gather my men! I want them all here in this very room within a quarter hour!" When Philipp just stared back blankly, the Duke practically shoved the man out the door with a boot. "Was that not clear enough, dummkopf?! Go, go!"

Slamming the door with even more force with before, the Duke collapsed back into his chair, running a hand through his meagre grey hair. _Curse my old age! Curse my luck! Above all else, curse the seas for not ridding me of the Snow Queen once and for all!_

* * *

"...and after _years _and _years_ of asking… I finally said yes!"

"Eugene!"

"Alright! In reality, I asked her."

"And we're living happily ever after!"

The King and Queen of Corona leaned toward each other romantically, their lips on the verge of contact when, _smack!_

"Ow! _Pascal!_ Geez!" Eugene rubbed his ear sorely.

"Aww! That was so sweet!" Anna clasped her hands together, her head tilted to one side, wide eyes shining with tears.

Thomas couldn't help but give a little sniff as well, though for a whole other reason. He felt saddened by the King's tale, despite its happy ending. Would those with magic always be cursed with lives of such pain and strife? He thought of Mother Gothel, of Prince Hans, of the Duke of Weselton; people who had acted of selfish greed and fear, each corrupted in their own way by the presence of magic.

The young prince sighed. Alas, he was among the ranks of those imbued with magical power. What dark fate was in store for him?

Christopher raised a finger. "Wait, wait. You're telling me that you healed Eugene with your _tears? _Does that mean you still have magic?"

Rapunzel shook her head. "Honestly, Christopher, I don't know. The magic that I had was in my healing hair, and that hasn't grown in over twenty years!"

"I only wish my powers were so benign," Elsa muttered.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, but you're pretty lucky to have magic at all!" Eugene commented. The Snow Queen gave a bitter smile.

"I thank you for saying so but, believe me, _lucky_ is the last word I would use to describe my cu..." A sharp look of reminder from Anna had Elsa rephrasing. "...magic."

Kristoff cleared his throat. "Um, Your Majesty…"

"Please, just Rapunzel."

"...Rapunzel, does your son have any magic powers?"

"Not that we've seen." The Queen of Corona reached over to ruffle her son's hair. "Though he has an unnatural love for books and studying!" Rapunzel teased.

"Mother!" Warner complained.

"That's like you when you were his age, Elsa! He may have magic yet!" Anna laughed.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Eugene interjected. "We've yet to give you a proper tour of the palace! Warner knows the place like the back of his hand…"

"Sure do!" the prince piped.

"...so he'll have no problem showing you folks around!"

The King looked to his son, who nodded in affirmation.

"Alright, right this way then!" Warner walked out into the hall, motioning for the Arendellians to follow.

"You're not coming?" Anna asked Rapunzel.

"The rest of the party guests should be arriving any moment now. We've got to be here to welcome them." The Queen of Corona smiled apologetically. "Besides, I'm sure Pascal and Warner will be fabulous tour guides!"

The little green chameleon leapt from Eugene's shoulder onto Kristoff's, waving its little claws around and jabbering unintelligibly in the mountain man's ear.

"Uh huh… oh, really? That's great!" Kristoff turned to the rest of his family. "Come on, guys! Pascal says there's going to be chocolate at the end!"

"Count me in!" whooped Anna.

"Wow, Dad can talk to chameleons, too?" Annabeth remarked.

"What did the trolls say? He's just a little outside nature's laws!" Elsa replied with a chuckle.

Thomas smiled, chasing after Warner's distancing figure. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

When he had set out on his voyage, the Duke of Weselton had thought his dozen stony-faced Ducal Guards enough for any situation. Now, in the face of Queen Elsa's arrival, he realized just how unprepared he had come to Corona. Looking over his assembled men, packed into this little room in the palace, the heat of the season running in sweat down their brows, and suddenly they seemed quite insufficient indeed.

"Each and every one of you in this room has sworn, by oath, to serve me to your graves," the Duke began, looking each of his guards squarely in the eye. The crimson-clad men stood still as an army of statues, eyes staring straight ahead, chests hardly even moving with their breaths.

Nodding with satisfaction, the Duke continued. "Now is the time to prove that oath. The royal family of Arendelle made port not an hour ago. As you know, the Kingdom of Arendelle has been our rival ever since that _sorceress_ Queen Elsa alienated us from trade and communication. Your job is to shadow and observe the family. Do not interact with them, do not be discovered! Report all findings to me at the end of the day."

The Duke drew himself up ramrod straight. "Men, the rise of our nation shall not be thwarted a second time! For Weselton!"

"_For Weselton!_" the Ducal Guard echoed in unison. The men filed out the door, the sharp rap of their heels receding into the distance.

The Duke smiled darkly, almost evilly. _You will not stop me this time, Snow Queen._

* * *

They stepped into a huge, cavernous room, massive pillars on all sides, a kaleidoscope of light filtering in from the stained glass of the ceiling high above. The floor was a white, polished marble, contrasting with the soft red carpet running the length of the chamber. At the far end of the room was a pedestal formed by concentric circles rising up from the ground. Atop it sat a great chair, seemingly wrought of solid gold, its upholstery rich and elaborate, its back rising to a height of several metres.

"And this is the throne room. As you can probably tell, that's the Throne of Corona right there." Warner gestured to the literal seat of power with a hand.

The windows of the throne room were evidently designed to focus all the light onto the throne itself, making it shine radiantly while casting the rest of the chamber in a veil of shadow. The image of the glowing throne was mirrored in everyone's eyes. The effect was quite awe-inspiring.

A glint of sapphire upon the seat of the throne caught Thomas' eye.

"Is it customary to place the crown on the throne itself?" Elsa asked. It seemed his mother had noticed as well.

"Oh, that's a running joke of Father's." Warner replied.

"How so?" Thomas inquired.

"Well, back when he was Flynn Rider, Father was always trying to steal the crown, or so he tells me." Warner explained. "This is sort of his way of showing that he's denounced his thieving ways. Though the crown belongs to him now, anyway, so it really doesn't make much of a difference!" The prince chuckled.

"Well, that crown certainly does look pretty!" Annabeth commented. "How come you never wear a crown, Auntie?"

"Oh, crowns and tiaras hurt my head," Elsa replied simply. Anna gave her daughter a little wink.

"Moving on!" Warner walked back into the hallway, beckoning for the Arendellians to follow.

After a few more steps, the hall abruptly opened to a set of double doors. Warner pulled on the silver handles, only to hear the dull click of the locking mechanism. Even with a few harder wrenches, the doors still would not budge.

"Drat! I left the key back in my parents' room!" The prince gave a final tug before throwing up his arms up in defeat. "I guess I'll have to run all the way back…"

Pascal took the moment to leap from Kristoff's shoulder onto Warner's curly hair, hanging from one of the dark locks and dangling in front of the prince's face.

"Ow! Pascal, what is it?" Warner swatted at the chameleon, only to have the lizard swing onto his shoulder instead. His face a condescending mask, Pascal pulled a small brass key from behind his back, wagging it in front of Warner's nose.

"Oh! You have it!" The prince held his hand out expectantly.

The chameleon handed the key over with three short chirps that sounded suspiciously like tsking, his little lizard head shaking slowly.

Thomas couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "And I thought Uncle's relationship with Sven was strange!" he exclaimed. That had the uncle in question folding his arms over his chest defensively.

"Hey, you're one to talk about strangeness! Who's the one with a live snowman as a friend and an ice golem as a guardian?" Warner retorted.

"Fair point!" Thomas chuckled.

With a click, the doors before them opened to reveal a chamber even grander than the one they had just come from. The ceiling was lower in this room, an ornate chandelier hanging from its apex, casting the walls in a soft, warm light. The floor was hardwood, a gigantic sun painted at the centre, smaller suns placed at the edges of its curved rays. Beams of real sunlight slanted in from the tall windows by the far wall.

"Wait, don't tell me!" Anna's eyes swept across the chamber, alight with recognition. "This is your ballroom, isn't it?"

Warner nodded. "We don't use it unless the weather is bad. Mother likes to host all her dances and celebrations either in the village or the courtyard."

A familiar whoop had all eyes returning to Anna, who had removed her shoes and was sliding about the ballroom in her socks. "Newly waxed, too!" the woman exclaimed as she shot past the rest of her family.

Warner blinked. "How is she doing that? You'd think the floor was made of ice…"

Elsa laughed. "She's had plenty of practice on real ice as well, though I suspect it's hardly the same!"

"Oh? Do you go up to the mountains in the winter and skate on the frozen lakes? I've heard it can be quite dangerous… what's going on?" Warner gazed perplexed at Thomas as the young prince stared back at him with amusement.

Thomas looked to Elsa, who gave a small nod. A grin spreading across his face, the young prince tapped his foot on the floor, making sure to look Warner straight in the eye as he did so. A glowing snowflake pattern radiated out from the spot of contact, a thin layer of clear ice forming upon the hardwood, slowly spreading outwards in a perfect hexagonal pattern. Just for effect, Thomas sent a light arctic gust to ruffle his coattails.

"Tell me, does 'Snow Queen' ring any bells?" he asked with a lopsided smile. Warner gaped at the ice that had formed beneath their feet, as if he couldn't quite believe the sight of it. Pascal peeked out from behind the prince's shoulder, eyes wide in awe. With a smile, Elsa gave a little wave of her hand, transforming Warner's dress shoes into a set of ice skates. The prince promptly fell flat on his back.

"Did I mention I can't skate?" he wheezed from the ground.

Thomas extended a hand toward Warner, helping the prince back up. Spotting Pascal, the young prince laughed. "That's really too bad, because it seems your friend can skate quite well!" The little chameleon was zipping about Thomas' miniature ice rink, twirling and pirouetting comically.

"Hey, what about us?" Annabeth and Christopher came running over, Anna matching their steps, a reluctant Kristoff in tow. Seeing her brother-in-law's apprehensive expression, Elsa chuckled. The Snow Queen fitted her family with ice skates with a snap of her fingers, widening Thomas' impromptu rink to encompass the entire ballroom.

The swishing of blades upon ice mingled with joyous cheers and laughter from the Arendellian royal family. Thomas whooped with glee, flying across the ballroom like a miniature whirlwind, the sunlight from the windows casting the ice beneath his feet in an alternating pattern of light and dark. Skating always gave a great measure of exhilaration to him. Ice was his element; upon it, he was free. Taking a glance at Warner, however, Thomas could clearly see this was not the case for the other crown prince.

"C'mon, Warner, skating is easy!" Annabeth called. "Arms out, like this, see? Now, slide your feet as if you were shuffling…"

The Crown Prince of Corona swayed unsteadily, leaning forward at an extreme angle, nether region high in the air. The prince's face grew redder with every passing moment.

"Can we just move on to the next room?" Warner implored, trying vainly to save some shred of dignity from the situation.

"No, no! You're doing it wrong!" Christopher exclaimed. "Stand up! Back straight!"

Warner strived to follow Christopher's directions, only too late realizing that he had unbalanced himself. Arms pinwheeling, legs flailing, the prince toppled upon his rump with an ungainly flop. Thomas chuckled, drawing level with Warner effortlessly.

"Do you need a little help?" he chuckled. Warner made no move to get up, instead sweeping his hands across the surface of the ice.

Thomas raised a bemused eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Warner suddenly faced him with a devilish grin. "Sod this." Too late, Thomas noticed the makeshift snowball cupped in the prince's hand. He frantically tried to maneuver out of the way, but the slippery ice beneath his skates impeded his acceleration. The soggy projectile made contact with the back of his head with a wet smack.

Abruptly, the ballroom fell dead silent. Slowly, Thomas turned back to face Warner. The prince was gaffawing victoriously, pointing tauntingly up at him. "Hah! How are you going to retaliate without snow?"

There were a few scattered giggles. To Thomas' left, Christopher ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Warner, you just threw a snowball at Thomas. _Thomas._" Warner still bore a bemused expression on his face, evidently not yet realizing the full gravity of the situation. Christopher just sighed. "Didn't your parents ever tell you never to start a fight you can't win?"

"But there's no more…"

Thomas summoned a nimbus of glowing magic into his palm, snowflakes beginning to drift through the air around him. Now, it was his turn to smile devilishly.

"...snow." Warner's voice dropped off into apprehensive silence. Pascal peeked out from the folds of the prince's clothing, only to shrink back immediately, covering his eyes with his little chameleon claws.

Thomas winked. "Son of the Snow Queen, remember?" With that, he let fly an unrelenting barrage of snowballs, practically burying Warner in a mound of powder.

Christopher shook his head sagely at the defeated prince. "And _that's _why you never throw snowballs at Tom." Everyone laughed heartily at the statement, even Warner as he shook the snow from his hair.

In the shadows of the doorway, a figure bearing the crest of Weselton slid unnoticed out into the hall, making for his sovereign's chamber with great haste.

* * *

If there was one thing in this world that the Duke of Weselton hated the most, it was waiting. Having to let time pass him by before he could achieve a result was like watching his precious lifeblood slowly dry up in the midday sun. Unfortunately, with Coronan guards ensuring the observation of his every move outside of his chamber, wait was exactly what he had to do.

To stop himself from going utterly mad with impatience, the Duke paced about the room, sparing not a square centimetre of the flooring from the heels of his black boots. It was thus that he found the small, decrepit drawer at an obscure corner of his chamber, a thick coat of dust upon the once shining wood, squeaking from years of disuse. His curiosity sparked, the Duke retrieved the yellowing and flaky parchments within to his desk, poring over them for lack of else to do.

The papers were addressed to the "Captain of the Guards"; a series of reports naming and physically detailing criminals of great concern at the time. A fresh bout of indignation flared in the Duke's chest. Not only had the monarchy commissioned their guards to tail him every moment of the day, but they had given him a room that had obviously once been _used_ by one of those guards! Why, the _nerve_ of those arrogant, _insufferable_...

By some trick of the light, a name upon the parchment caught his eye. _Flynn Rider_. The King of Corona's old persona. The Duke's eyes scanned across the paper on their own accord.

_Crimes: thievery on many counts, rape, evasion of Royal Guard._

_Known haunts: pubs and taverns; notable sightings at the "Snuggly Duckling"._

_Known associates: Stabbington brothers, Gareth "Hook Hand" Jones, Vladimir van Bane._

_Status: WANTED, dead or alive._

The Duke's lip curled in a sneer. Every ruler had his dark secrets, but it seemed King Eugene's history was quite the lot filthier than most. It was a wonder the kingdom was still intact at all with such a character upon the throne!

Three urgent knocks upon the door shook the Duke from his gloading.

"Who is it!" he called.

"Phillip again, Your Grace!"

The Duke groaned, yanking open the door with a swift jerk. Having evidently learned his lesson from his last experience, the Ducal Guard had already stepped back, so as to not fall face-first into the room a second time. The man was panting profusely, as if having run a great distance, a distraught expression upon his face. The Duke fixed him with a hard glare.

"Well? What news do you have?"

"Your Grace, the Snow Queen has a son-"

The Duke refrained from moving his palm to his face. "Yes, I am _well aware _of that fact! I have been for a decade! Now, I ask again. What _news_ do you have!"

"thesonhasthecurse!"

"Excuse me?"

The guard looked quite agitated now. "Queen Elsa's son has the curse! I saw the boy cover the entire ballroom floor with ice at the tap of his foot! He summoned snow from thin air and buried Prince Warner with a wave of his hand! He..."

The man's voice blurred away into the background. Five words resonated within the Duke's mind, each reverberation increasing in intensity until everything else became naught but white noise. _The son has the curse. THE SON HAS THE CURSE._

_Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle is a sorcerer._

From all outward appearances, it would have seemed the Duke had suddenly awakened from a stupor. His back straightened. His face hardened into a firm scowl. His gloved hands tightened into fists at his sides. Pushing past his still-babbling guard, the Duke of Weselton marched out into the hall, his heels clicking resolutely upon the hardwood.

He knew what needed to be done.

* * *

_**Thank you all for your gracious reading and reviewing! Many of you have given some very shrewd and constructive criticisms, and though I may not be able to fix all of those issues, every little bit helps. To know one's faults is the first step upon the road to improvement :3**_

_**Of course, as always, PLEASE REVIEW!**_


	16. Of Blade and Coin

_**Disclaimer: Tangled and Frozen belong to Disney.**_

_**WARNING: Slightly vulgar language ahead (hey, the story is rated T for a reason)**_

* * *

**Chapter 16: Of Blade and Coin**

"So how did it go?" The King of Corona's voice punctuated the sounds of food consumption. "You all certainly seem hungry enough!"

"Mmph… You can't blame us!" Anna squeezed out between chews. "This roast is delicious!" The woman's cheeks were bloated with the goose and corn within, her lips stained brown with sauce. Rapunzel giggled as Elsa frowned at her younger sister's disregard of etiquette.

Warner gazed upon the bountiful assortment of dishes and platters brimming with foodstuffs positioned across the long table before him. Strangely, he felt no hunger pangs at the sight. He suspected it was because of the regrettable amounts of chocolate he had consumed at the end of his tour guide. At least he hadn't been the only one...

"Mama, how are you still _going_ after all that chocolate you ate?" Annabeth exclaimed.

Christopher was equally flabbergasted. "You took half the whole platter of the stuff!"

"And Warner took the rest," Thomas laughed. "We barely had any left for ourselves!"

Pascal chirped a reply from his position on the arm of Warner's chair.

"Well, that's easy for _you _to say, Pascal!" Kristoff retorted at the little lizard. "You eat one piece and you're stuffed!"

Pascal patted the noticeable bulge on his underside in agreement, phasing to a content yellow complexion.

"Which is just as well," Elsa commented. "Otherwise, we'd have all of you bouncing off the walls from all the sugar!"

"Hey, you weren't so noble either, sister!" Anna mumbled around another mouthful. "Admit it, you were the most upset of all of us when you didn't get your chocolate!"

Elsa's indignant retort was cut off by Rapunzel's laughter. "I can imagine! I would have been absolutely the same in that situation. This chocolate addiction really runs in the family!" The Queen of Corona turned to her son. "But how did the _tour _go?"

Warner cleared his throat. "Well, they were certainly well mannered…" The scathing glares of the Arendellian royals bored into him unanimously. "...not that I expected you _not _to be! Anyway, they really seemed to love the courtyard and the Portrait Hall..."

"You have a painting of Joan of Arc, too!" Anna piped.

"Oh, that old thing? She was here _long_ before I became King. Is it important, somehow?" Eugene enquired.

"Well, the portrait of Joan back at Arendelle Castle was sort of my childhood friend," Anna explained. "I… didn't get around much often back then…" The woman looked to her sister, who suddenly seemed dejected, a sad light in her ice blue eyes, her head bowed ever so slightly. Warner sensed a story there, but by the look on the Queen of Arendelle's face, it would probably be wise for his intrigue to wait.

"And guess what else?" he chirped to break the sudden silence. "We went skating in the ballroom!"

"Wait, _skating?_" Rapunzel looked to Elsa with a knowing grin.

The Snow Queen held up her hands. "Don't look at me!" she laughed. "Thomas was the one who created all the ice."

The boy in question raised an eyebrow.

"Well, alright, _most_ of the ice," Elsa conceded with a smile.

"How did Warner do?" Eugene asked with a chuckle. "I know for a fact my boy has never skated in his life!"

"Didn't stop him from making a snowball from the ice that came off of our skates and hitting me with it, though," Thomas laughed. "He's quite resourceful!"

That had both the Coronan monarchs laughing as well. Rapunzel turned a quizzical gaze to the Crown Prince of Arendelle. "Thomas, I've never asked! What is the extent of your gift?"

"Oh, he certainly has powerful magic!" Warner attested. "Enough to cover the ballroom floor in ice with a tap of his foot. It was quite spectacular, actually, but I suspect he made it appear that way on purpose." He looked pointedly to Thomas, who grinned back cheekily. "Also enough to make a whole legion of snowballs appear out of thin air and _bury_ me with them," Warner added with a groan.

"And don't you forget it!" Thomas stated, forking another bite of goose.

"His control is certainly far better than mine was at his age," Elsa agreed, wiping her mouth daintily with a napkin.

"Could Thomas give us a demonstration, perhaps?" Eugene ventured.

The son of the Snow Queen nodded, putting down his fork and raising a hand, palm up. Sparks of magic, glowing a cold, iridescent blue, began to swirl amidst the boy's fingers. Warner stared with rapt attention as a snowflake coalesced above Thomas' palm, the ice clear, the fractals perfect.

Thomas handed his fully-formed creation to the King of Corona, who took it with reverent praise in his eyes. "Incredible..." Eugene breathed as he turned the piece of ice over in his hand.

"As incredible as hair that can heal with a touch? I think not!" Thomas shrugged, making the snowflake disappear with a wave.

"It _is _incredible!" the Queen of Corona exclaimed. "We live in a world of marvellous magic!"

"Marvellous it may be, but magic seems to cause a lot more trouble than good," sighed the Snow Queen. "Which brings me to another question. Have the rest of the party guests arrived yet?"

Eugene nodded. "Lord Nicholas of Bray and the Duchess of Witherton made port while you were away on your tour. Also, a ship flying the French colours was sighted on the horizon about an hour ago."

'You hear that, Tom?" Anna grinned. "There's going to be people from France at the party! You can impress them with your French skills!"

The young prince gave a long, drawn-out groan, leaving Warner with the impression that the boy probably did not enjoy speaking French very much. The rest of the Arendellians laughed.

"Did anyone arrive _before_ us?" Elsa pressed.

"Well, there was one very early arrival," mused Rapunzel. "Some squirrelly old man and his guards. The Duke of - what was it? - Weasel-town?"

"You invited the _Duke of Weselton!?_"

"That's it! Weselton!" As if only then registering Elsa's words, Rapunzel's expression abruptly became one of worry. "Wait, is there something wrong?"

The Queen of Arendelle took a deep breath. "That man tried to _assassinate _me, Rapunzel! Even though it happened two decades ago, that is something I am not willing to let go of!"

"Trust me, we wouldn't have invited that smarmy old man either if it hadn't been completely necessary," Eugene placated.

"And why was inviting him necessary in the first place?"

The King of Corona sighed. "Well, the unfortunate fact is, our kingdom is dependant on Weselton for their coal. We invited the Duke out of courtesy of our trade alliance, nothing more."

Warner watched his father and Queen Elsa stare at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the Snow Queen gave a long sigh.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to endure the Duke's wretched company for a couple of days." Elsa smiled in apology. "But I'm sure nothing can come close to undermining the happiness of Warner's birthday festival." The Queen of Arendelle stood, brushing nonexistent crumbs from her pristine ice dress. "Now, where are our rooms?"

As if on cue, three men in sharp red suits and matching black hats marched smartly into the dining hall.

"Right this way, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses!" One of the servants bowed, sweeping an arm toward the doors. The rest of the Arendellians stood as well, removing their neckerchiefs and following the servants out of the chamber, for their bedrooms.

The Coronan royals remained seated. Rapunzel looked to Eugene. "Do you think inviting the Duke of Weselton was a good idea?" she asked uncertainly.

Eugene closed his eyes. "No. No, it wasn't."

* * *

By the cover of darkness, a figure moved amidst the shadows of the forest path. Though it was nigh impossible to make out the finer details, the silhouette suggested a lithe, slight man, walking with the brisk pace of one with a destination in mind. Posture bent forward, the tails of his long overcoat swishing with his steps, the lip of his cowl pulled low, he seemed like a wraith in the pallid light of the moon.

It was thus that Marcus Everett shouldered through the beaten door of the tavern, making for the equally dilapidated bar situated by the wall. Ignoring the drunken grunts and slurs of the thugs and bastards around him, he slid onto a stool, placing his elbows upon the grimy surface of the counter. The smiling bartender quickly noticed the new customer.

"Can I get you anything, dear?"

"Something to drink will do," Marcus replied. His voice was barely above a whisper, his cowl concealing all but the tip of his worn nose. The barmaid nodded, reaching behind her for a dented iron mug, moving it to a faucet on the wall to fill it with a frothing brown brew. The man took the tankard with a wordless nod, gulping at the contents without so much as raising his head.

"You're a quiet character, aren't you?" the barmaid ventured. "What has you out here on the outskirts of Corona?"

"They say us men are driven by three things. Our greed, our penises, and our thirst," the man grunted, taking another long drag from his mug. The barmaid leaned forward, giving Marcus a liberal view of her ample bosom.

"So it's a bedwarmer you seek?"

The man laughed; a low, guttural sound. "Don't flatter yourself, girlie." He finished the last of his beer with a swig, setting the mug down upon the counter with a firm clunk. With an almost imperceptible turn of his head, Marcus began to survey the tavern, searching eyes sweeping across the many alcohol-soaked men with cool indifference.

"Who are you looking for, then?" The barmaid cocked her head curiously.

"An employer," he answered.

"Oh? And what line of work would a man such as you be interested in?"

"I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you." Marcus flipped a single silver coin onto the counter. "For your services."

Something about the man's tone sent shivers down the maid's spine. Swallowing nervously, she hastily took the man's mug, disappearing into the back room behind the bar. A satisfied smile touching his lips, Marcus stepped off his stool in one fluid motion, seeming to meld into the shadows in the corners of the dank room.

Indeed, in his _line of work_, trustworthy employers were hard to come by. After all, those who had use for a hired assassin were never quite the savoury characters themselves. More often than not, men were not actually willing to pay their promised sums, resorting to - how did they put it? - _eliminating the loose end_,instead.

The pathetic rabble gathered in the tavern tonight offered little chance of a fresh job. A pity; his last _assignment _had ended with him barely escaping with his life, much less his promised coin. Quite the irony to send a man to kill the man whom you had hired to kill _another_ man in the first place, but alas, such was the treachery of his company. Traffic with death, and one would be upon the receiving end of its merciless blade sooner or later.

Giving the interior of the tavern one last glance, Marcus spat in disgust. Nothing but a lot of hopeless men, drowning their sorrows in tankards of cheap beer. His time would be much better spent elsewhere. But just as he was about to take his leave, another group of men marched into the tavern, the battered door groaning in protest.

The newcomers held themselves with the haughty arrogance of men who thought themselves above the drunken flotsam about the rest of the room. Their crisp crimson uniforms and rigid military stances left no doubt in Marcus' mind; these men were guards. But guards of whom?

The question had barely flared in his mind when the answer presented himself. Pushing through the ranks of the burly guards, an old man strutted into view, squinting out at the tavern through bespectacled eyes. By his elaborately embroidered blue uniform, prim epaulettes, and immaculate moustache, it was obvious this was a man of stature; an aristocrat at the least. What could such a man possibly want from this pathetic congregation of lowlifes and nobodies?

By now, the chatter about the tavern had died down to a thick silence. A sea of bloodshot eyes fixed upon the strangers at the door. From the shadows, Marcus mentally shook his head at the moustached man. One did not walk in to a place like this with such displays of obvious wealth and expect to be able to leave cleanly. Already, he could make out some of the bolder ruffians creeping toward the group, reaching for their blades and pocket flintlocks, waiting for the slightest opportunity to strike.

It was then that the old man cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen, I have reason to believe a wanted man is in your midst." The man's voice was high and nasal, but carried a tone of surprising authority. Enough authority to make every other man in the room freeze in their movements.

Taking a white parchment scroll from one of his guards, the old man unrolled it in front of him. "The man I am looking for is in his mid-thirties. Dark brown hair, green eyes, high-bridged nose." The parchment was flipped outward to show the image inscribed upon it. A portrait. Above the crop of short hair, _WANTED_ was stamped upon the parchment in thick black ink. Below the portrait's chin was a name. _Marcus Everett_. His name.

At once, Marcus felt cold, searching stares lacerate his body. The urchin he had bumped into on the way in, the man with blackened teeth and tobacco breath he had shoved aside at the door, even the barmaid herself all turned their heads in unison to face the dark corner in which he stood. He pressed himself even tighter against the wall, hunching over in a desperate attempt to stay inconspicuous. Noticing the shifting heads, the moustached man at the door smiled a dark, triumphant smile

"I have been told this Mr. Everett is known wear a cowl."

At the counter, the barmaid gave a gasp of shock. The man with tobacco breath sneered, showing the blackened stumps that were his teeth. "So, what exactly is Everett wanted _for_?" the man slurred.

"The unlawful murder of a certain Dylan Bennett." The old man handed the wanted poster to another of his guards, who rolled it back up with hard, swift motions. In his shadowy corner, Marcus cursed his luck. Not only had his last job failed to earn him any solid gold, but it was coming bloody close to defenestrating his entire career as well. He fingered the hilts of the twin daggers strapped at his sides. The court had no mercy for men like him. If he was to go down, he would go down fighting.

Suddenly, firm hands gripped his arms like steely vices. A hard fist came pounding down upon his temple, jolting him into a world of starburst. He felt another hand rip the cowl from his head, yanking his face up into the light. A kick swept his legs out from underneath him. Thinking they had him incapacitated, the two men holding Marcus began dragging his limp body across the tavern floor.

But, due to his chosen career, Marcus was not to be captured so easily. Feigning unconsciousness, he assessed the situation. These men were definitely of the same allegiance as the moustached man by the door. That must be where they were dragging him to. From what he saw, the rest of the six guards were still situated around their charge. Thus, the faster he acted, the better his chances were of escape.

He took a deep breath. He struck. Planting one foot firmly upon the floor, he jerked himself upright, aiming a vicious kick with his other leg. His foot met its target with a satisfying smack, the guard to his left relinquishing his hold upon Marcus, collapsing to the ground and clutching at his groin in agony.

One hand now free, Marcus unsheathed a dagger in one swift motion. Before the second guard could retaliate, he slammed the hard steel of the hilt into the man's solar plexus. Even as the guard doubled over in pain, Marcus swiftly aimed a second blow to the back of his head, knocking the guard unconscious instantly. Dropping the body to the floor, he flipped his cowl back over his head, pivoting as he prepared to flee.

The sound of blades unsheathing ripped through the tense atmosphere. One moment, Marcus was dashing wildly for the back door; the next, the gleaming tips of three short swords were tickling his throat.

"Hands where we can see them!" one of the guards growled.

Marcus swallowed, feeling his adam's apple brush against cold steel.

"_Do it now_, or I'll cut you a second smile just below the chin!"

He slowly raised his hands over his head, letting his dagger drop to the floor. It fell upon the hardwood with a thud. Instantly, two more crimson-clad men grabbed his arms, forcing him toward the door. The old man there nodded with satisfaction, moustache listing in a caustic smile.

"Gentlemen, our business here is done. Continue on with your... _partaking_!"

With that, the moustached man motioned for his guards, who smartly kicked open the door of the tavern, shoving Marcus out into the night beyond. The feeble light of the bar lamps was extinguished as the battered door slammed shut once more behind them.

The guards held him wordlessly, directing him further down the forest path from whence he came. When they passed out of sight of the tavern, the men shoved him roughly to the dewy ground, directing their swords at his throat once more. Marcus whipped his panicked gaze left and right, searching fervently for a route of escape. Alas, he saw naught but more of the crimson-clad men gazing unwaveringly down upon him, eyes glinting with cold resolve. He felt the gnarled bark of a tree press onto his back. Nowhere left to run. He closed his eyes. So this was how he would meet his end.

The old man's distinctive voice had him looking up once more.

"Marcus Everett." A dark chuckle. "It seems you're quite the… _talented_ man. Not many could have bested a single member of my Ducal Guard, let alone two at once; but I expected nothing less from _you_. You are the man who managed to slit the throat of a certain foreign dignitary while he was _right under_ the noses of the Royal Guards, after all." The moustached man paused for a moment, gesturing to his guards. "Take that dratted cowl off of him! I want to see his face!"

For the second time that night, his cowl was ripped from his head. There was a harsh intake of breath from the… Duke, was it? Marcus couldn't help but give a contemptuous laugh.

"Pretty, isn't it?" He slowly ran a finger across the long scar that marred his face from forehead to temple, smiling as the old man cringed. "Just a little further, and I wouldn't be here entertaining you tonight."

The Duke gave himself a little shake, scowl back upon his face. "Can you do it again?" the moustached man demanded.

"Do what?"

"Kill a man quickly, quietly?"

A slow grin of understanding creeped across Marcus' face. "You know, there are better ways to acquire use of my services," he drawled. "Your Grace, is it?"

"Who I am is not of your concern! I will ask you once more, and once more only! _Can you do it_?"

Marcus leaned back against the tree, fingers to his chin, making a show of lazily contemplating his decision. Though he felt all to clearly the edges of the blades pressed to his skin, he smiled to himself. He was needed, thus _he_ had the upper hand now. They wouldn't dare kill him yet.

"Well, that depends largely upon two things, _Your Grace_." The last two syllables dripped mockingly from his tongue. "The target, and of course, the _price_ you are willing to pay to see that target dead."

The Duke surveyed the surrounding forest with squinted eyes. When he was certain there was no one to overhear, the moustached man leaned forward intently. "The target is Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle."

Marcus' eyes grew wide, then just as quickly narrowed. "You want me to assassinate a _crown prince!?_ Now, I've had some tall orders before, but this… this might as well be outright bloody _regicide_ you're asking me to commit!"

The old man's brow knitted in displeasure. "I wasn't _asking_, criminal!" The guards pressed their blades harder into the flesh of Marcus' throat to accentuate the statement. "I could have you killed and fetch a handsome reward for your carcass from the Coronan authorities! The way I see it, you don't have much of a _choice_, Mr. Everett."

Marcus glared defiantly back at the Duke. "I'm fit to be hanged, drawn, and quartered should your bloody plan fail! _What's in it for me?_"

The Duke's moustache curled in a sardonic smile. "Ah yes, _coin_." Reaching into his side satchel, the man produced a brown canvas pouch, tied off at the lip with twine. It had a swollen look to it; a familiar look. A look that stirred the greed within Marcus' black heart. The contents of the pouch jangled as the Duke gave it a little shake. "Isn't that the sound you scoundrels like best?" The old man chuckled mirthlessly.

Marcus licked his lips, restraining himself from grabbing the pouch like the Duke so obviously wanted him to. "How much gold are we talking here?"

"Five thousand Crowns." The moustached man shifted his hold upon the canvas pouch so that it was dangling mere centimetres from Marcus' face. "Should you complete your _task_, this will be but the smallest fraction of the riches you will command."

Marcus exhaled slowly. Five thousand Crowns. Enough for him to pay the reward for his own capture tenfold. Enough to buy him a nice house on the hills, with a servant or two to spare. Enough to wipe clean the slate for good, to give him a fresh start.

_Take the job, and get mighty rich. Refuse it, and die a poor bastard. _As much as he hated to admit it, the old man was right. He didn't have much of a choice. So he took the pouch. Gingerly pocketed the coin. Ignored the Duke's triumphant sneer.

One last job, and he could live as an honest man for the rest of his days.

* * *

_**Enter, the assassin. How do you like the new OC? As always, PLEASE REVIEW!**_


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